


M.A.T.E.

by Glorioux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Erotica, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance, y - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorioux/pseuds/Glorioux
Summary: Too bad, Hermione is under a particular curse. After she ended the Golden Trio love triad, her love life is in shambles. Not for lack of suitors, nope, because there is a rumor that she is cursed, "Granger is danger." Bad things happen to every wizard that tries to get close to her.  The curse has a name: Fenrir, the now respectable Lord Greyback  A wolf who has found his m.a.t.e., and is commited to eliminate the competition. Oh yes, Fenrir Greyback has found his M.A.T.E., but she just doesn't know it, yet. Fenrir is a reinvented-cunning-legally-employed bad wolf. He is vain, vindictive, violent, volatile, barely reformed and madly in love. He loves Hermione and tries to court her, leaving a trail of scared beaus. A sexy, crazy, wild romp of a bad wolf and his reluctant witch. Rated for a naughty wolf.





	1. Happy Kittens

Prologue

**Strike 1- The Triad**

Harry, Ron, and their petite friend loved each other best, so, naturally, the golden trio moved in together. Their romance started six months after the DH battle, and they were happy for a while; however, it was their mutual jealousy —Harry's and Ron's—about any other male or female, magic or not, that caused their break-up.

While they lived together, they had by-weekly family meetings organized by Hermione to talk about 'their feelings,' "Ron, Harry, darlings, I think it will be good if we save time aside to air out any problems, concerns or whatever, that might pop up. Perhaps a by-weekly session might be a good idea, are you in?"

They were in, holding a majority of voting power, not the brighest idea she ever had. Within six months, two of the voting members had voted to keep their witch home, no more university, no apprenticeships, and a tight schedule to have a 'nice, large family.' Meaning sex-on demand, and tend to all their wishes and needs. She had, effectively, dissempowered herself, and was at their mercy. 

Molly came to visit her whenever she was sure that neither of the two lovers were at home, "Dear, the two fools are killing you, one or the other, this is just too much. First, they need to grow up. I vote that you wait for a nice, older wizard." She hugged the too-thin-witch, she had lost nearly 9 kilo (20 Lbs) and was not looking well.

"I love them, but they want too much, and they are keeping me in a prison, what should I do?" Hermione said between sobs.

Arthur was happy to hear about Molly's initiative, since he fell into the male category, he had recently been forbidden to talk to Hermione by his own son, "Dad, please stop coming to visit Hermione. I don't know what your game is, but do me a favor, stay away from her, or I will tell Mom. I saw when you hugged her and held her a bit, too tight, and way too improper." 

Arthur was speechless, he couldn’t have heard correctly. No, it couldn’t be possible.

Yes, possible it was, just the next day, to worsen the sting, Harry approached him at the Ministry. Harry was all business and gave him a surly look.

"Ron has my support all the way. I agree with him that you visit Hermione way too often. It doesn't look good, and believe me, I am doing you a favor. Hermione is too popular and tempting for any wizard to resist her. So, it is better if you stop seeing her all together for our peace of mine, sorry old man." 

He looked at Arthur with contempt and added sanctimoniously, "You know the saying, 'it is better to be safe than sorry.'"And he walked away leaving Arthur in a state of shock, humiliated, and full of sorrow.

Yes indeed, those were Harry's ill conceived, thoughtless words. Arthur was so upset that he had to go home, and Molly wanted to hex the two fools until they hurt. He cried and asked Molly if he had ever behaved like a lecher around Hermione. "The foolish idiots," Molly told her family after giving Arthur a relaxing potion and sent him to sleep.

His siblings, were also against Ron, after all it had been seven months since the duo had forbidden Hermione to visit the Burrow, unless escorted by either of the dynamic duo, all because Charlie had said, "Wow, Hermione is one hot looking witch, if you all want one more Weasley in your group count me in," and George had seconded the motion. 

And not to forget the night of Arthur's and Molly's wedding anniversary when they left Hermione at home, because too many single wizards would attend, and they were concerned about possible competition. What, or who, was going to be next?

She left them within days of Molly's visit, and the Weasley family secretly helped her to move out. Afterwards, they had a party at the Burrow to celebrate; Harry and Ron weren't invited, and at the same party, Ginny announced her engagement to Neville. Neville was no longer a pushover, and when he heard that Harry might be re-entering the marriage market, he proposed immediately. “Atta boy,” Charlie shook his hand, all proud of him. Weasley 1 , Duo 0.

After the fiasco, Hermione dated a hot South-American wizard. His name was Pablo del Toro and was the first wizard to run away from her. His goodbye broke her heart, he called her from the airport claiming a pack of wolves tried to attack him after leaving her flat before dawn.

"Do you mean a pack of dogs? There are no wolves around here." Hermione had long suspected Del Toro, she was nearly sure that he smoked something other than cigarettes; she had caught an unusual whiff more than once. Besides, they had a passionate love affair and were talking about a more serious commitment, and she saw it as a run-away scheme.

"No querida, I am quite sure. I don't want to leave you mi amor. I tell you, one wolf growled, "Stay away from the princess." I love you, creeme mi amor, " his voice was shaky, unsteady with sheer terror.

The actor, she thought, "It's fine with me, if you want to stick to such a silly story, adios amigo." And she let him go; besides he was not that great, a bit selfish overall. She dried a runaway tear.

Little did she suspect that someone was starting to get rid of his competition, a clever wolf was using the pre-emptive strike tactic. He knew Muggle terminology; after all, he also watched the telly, once in a while. He had already used his acquaintances to poison her triad's partners minds. And so, our story begins.

**Witches just want to have fun - Happy Kittens is Born**

George, Ron, and Hermione were brain-storming on a 'how to get rich venture.' Hermione had inherited a little over one and one-half million sterling, a country estate, worth who knew how much, a fashionable London flat, and separate funds to maintain both the properties; and what she called 'a worthless Blue-blood title,' since she was never leaving the Wizarding world.

Her parents had stayed in Australia; and one fortuitous day, she received Muggle post. Surprise, a grandaunt had left all her fortune, titles, jewels, two dogs, a marmalade cat, ten horses, and two retired age, butler and cook couples; it all went to her favorite niece's daughter. The reason it had all come to her was, ironically, blood prejudice; she had disliked Hermione's father, an untitled tooth puller, as she rudely had stated in her will; in her opinion, 'Hermione, my grandniece has enough 'good blood' to make up for the tooth-puller's tainted, plebeian blood.'

Needless to say that the event didn't sit well with her parents, so she offered them the country estate, which they declined; they had enough on their own. However, when she offered them the London flat, that did it. Now they were back at England, trying to figure out where to set their surgery. "Honey, don't take it wrong, one day this will all be yours. We only needed a more central place to live, the place is big, and you can live with us."

Whatever, now Hermione was looking for an angle in the business world, so she could accommodate her parents as well.

The Weasley brothers asked her with great curiosity, "Hermione, we had no idea you came from a rich family. If we might be forward, how did you get all that money?"

She tried to explain, granted that neither of the Weasley brothers understood one word about the blue-blood business, and of how her mother's family came from a younger brother who had not inherited the title, and so on.

"It doesn't matter, it is legal money, and I didn't steal it." She smiled, "I just want to invest my capital, and I love the way George's entrepreneur mind works."

Next, she turned towards Ron, "Ron, dear, you are the brawn, the strategist, and undoubtedly a hard worker, and one of my best friends. So how about it, and we all get rich together?" She smiled and his felt a tug in his heart, something threatening to come loose. No, he couldn't go there; mostly, because nobody would allow it.

Ron and Hermione no longer had a common love life, and whose fault was it? Of course his, Harry and he had blown it, and he knew it; he was smart enough to understand that. 

"I have a great idea; Fred had already made at least fifty prototypes of charms and devices 'to play' with your witch." George said enthusiastically trying to push his idea.

Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled; however, she was sharp, "True, I know that sex is a growing industry. Besides, witches, the ones with a disposable income, live rather Victorian lives. I don't think witches' personal toys are, really, part of the mainstream, and there is no access to, even, the least risqué of sex toys." She answered as she thought, yes, the idea has its merits.

"Do you have any of them floating around?" Hermione asked with great interest.

"Ah, no, we don't sell them, and I don't think they float." Answered Ron who still wasn’t the sharpest of the three in the room, and some expressions, just escaped him completely.

George and Hermione laughed, and Ron still looked totally lost.

"I do have one of each; keep in mind that they need to get a test run." George disclosed, lewdly raising his eyebrow, and they all laughed. Hermione tried to suppress any blushing; this was all business.

George brought a couple of boxes, and now it was Ron's turn to blush. He averted his eyes from the witch; and Hermione's mind started to work as fast as usual.

"Do you remember Nigel Wespurt, he was a few classes behind ours," she asked looking at Ron.

"Yes, he was a nice enough wizard, considering how his eyes strayed all the time, in your direction, I mean." It was Ron's passive-aggressive response; followed by a suspicious look directed to Hermione.

However, he knew better and fully understood the value of personal safety. Thus, it was critical, in order for them to work together, for him to stay away from statements that could be misconstrued as jealousy. However, it was true, Nigel looked at Hermione way too much, and it was not jealousy; he was merely stating the facts, and so, he convinced himself.

Hermione had to bite her cheek to control her temper, and her mind wandered to the not so distant past. Would he ever change? Perhaps it was a bad idea to attempt to work with Ron. And, she remembered their awful break up just a few months before; as a matter of fact, their separation was still a sore spot festering in her heart.

Now, when they were back to being just friends, both, Harry and Ron, had finally understood that it was the end for them. They had come to that conclusion when they had come to enlist his mother and father's help. They'd needed their assistance to get back with Hermione. When they arrived at the Burrow, and to their surprise, there were party noises coming from within, a large gathering judging by the noise levels. Indeed, they’d found the entire family celebrating Hermione's freedom and Ginny's engagement.

Arthur and Molly were totally unsympathetic, even when they cried their eyes out, complete with sobs and throwing up. Nobody felt sorry for them, because they only had to look at Hermione, and everyone totally agreed that they didn't deserve her. _Oh, well, the sweet gits are my cross to bear. And, well, it is true, I still love them dearly, but they are purged out from my system. I need to remember they were highly toxic. True, true, sometimes I miss their great bedroom skills; hmm, and the way they knew their way around my body, and their..._ she stopped right there. There was no way she would ever be attracted to their bed, no, that was a direct road to hell.

"Hermione, hello, are you still with us?" George tapped her shoulder.

He had given her time to cool off. _Yup, Ron and his idiotic jealousy; he knows well how angry it makes her; the prat needs to learn his lesson. As Charlie had put it so well, "Bro, if we had been given the chance the two young idiots had—well, you bet your sweet arse, we would be married by now; and anyone of us would have treated her like a princess. They had their chance, and not only they blew it, but they nearly killed her." Yeah, Ron deserves all her anger._ George concluded his internal monologue.

Indeed, at Ron's not so innocent Nigel remark, first Hermione and then George, gave him a dirty look. The long and uncomfortable silence, prompted a somewhat feeble retract, "No, he was very nice, now I remember something about him…It was the one way he looked at her when the Professor err, forget it."

"You will never learn, will you?" George nearly growled between clenched teeth,, "and you better stop while you are ahead, YES? You really need to learn when to keep your big mouth shut."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, and she looked at the wizards while she updated them.

"As I was about to say, ehem, he is a genius with electronics and computers, the internet, you name it. He just opened a small magic electronics shop. He sells electronics which work around magic.” 

She noticed Ron’s pursed lips, his crossed arms, and heard his grumbling sounds, and shook her head in frustration. Finally, she decided to ignore him.

“Ehm. After approaching him, I think he would like to join forces with us. Specially considering his, well known, griped about the Malfoys, nothing new. Malfoy Industries has tried to take over his small business, what a surprise."

She looked at Ron, who looked even more put out. Just because, he couldn't stop wondering why she knew so much about Nigel. No, he hadn't learned his lesson; and to be realistic, he never would, time would be the judge of this assumed premise. She huffed delicately and continued.

"Anyway, I believe that he would be ideal for our purposes. We can make the toys combining the best of both words. You can have my money if we can convince him. I have some other possible wizards and witches, but let's see how this goes."

Days after, they met with Nigel, and he agreed to a one-year salary. After which time some type of partnership could be negotiated.

That was the beginning of their partnership; the idea took root, then watered and fed with capital and brains to make it happen and grow. 

All that was left, was to decide the name of their new company, a deliberation that took but a minute. Fred had already thought of a double entendre name instead of the p-word, that Hermione totally despised, they changed it to kittens. After all, the marauder generation called witches, kittens. So it was how the 'Happy Kittens,' division of WWW was born, owned by George, Ron, and Hermione, and two silent partners, i.e. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.


	2. New Begginings

Jkm = HP. Mates and new Character Dev = mine

**New Beginnings**

**George and Ron Weasley, Entrepreneurs, Rich, and Single - Rated in the Top 10 List of British Single Wizards**

The two single Wizards' photographs were on the cover of the 'Witches Just Want to have Fun,' popular magazine. It was the brainchild of Lavender Finnegan, née Brown, and Minnie Cherry Pop, the wild 'wizard-eater,’ ex-model and yank-expatriate.

The risqué publication was a manual full of how-to-tips—mostly, on how to enjoy a hedonistic life 24-7, if that was your sort of thing—. Each page was devoted to educate witches —regardless of their age, and/or level of expertise.

The mag even had sections for the mature witch that wanted to join the fun—. And for those hoping to become an expert in the subject matter, a step by step set of articles could be found. They fully explored the topic of how-to have pleasure with whomever, using whatever, and whenever, along with detailed, illustrated manuals and tips. If you had a wish or wanted fresh ideas, this was your source.

However, if you were just curious, or wanted a few tips, or to live vicariously through your imagination, this was also your thing. It was akin to Wizard magazines that wizards hid inside their serious reading, just for the articles, yeah, sure.

Each page was devoted to a much neglected area of witches' education; it was a fact that Purebloods were raised with a Victorian attitude. Furthermore, the S(ex) word was just part of any conversation, not a all; they just did, it, behind closed doors.

Extract from the interview in the, 'Witches just want to have Fun, 2004 - Spring Edition.'

"Yes, we, Fred and I, were two sensitive wizards, and soon realized that there is a multitude of lovely witches. And, not only that, we were also aware of the scarcity of Wizards who were able to provide good fun loving fun to everyone of them.” Smile, pic, pic.

“My brother Ron and our resident genius, Hermione Granger, offered new ideas to supply the needed relief, to those needy masses of expectant witches. I must say that the work of two of the Golden Trio, towards the development of our bright ideas, for all our lovely witches, has been the key to our success..."

George answered and ended his statement by flashing his best smile to the half-dressed dark beauty, who sat close to him, conducting the interview for the by-monthly magazine.

Minnie Cherry-Pop wore a cream colored, nearly transparent, jersey top, leaving little to the imagination. The animated logo, displayed pouty lips, and a tongue, sensously licking, her trade mark, red lollypop. "George, you don't say, and by the way, I have nothing to do this afternoon, do you? Blah, blah-" and the rest was history.

The article gave way for their dream to come true. Happy Kittens- Inc., a division of WWW was born, launched, and in just 18 months, the sales had sky rocketed. Happy Kittens had become a household name.

The interview set up by Hermione Granger, aided by studies in marketing and three other Muggle and wizarding studies, used the power of the press to make their product known far and wide. Thus, Happy Kittens soon became the number one worldwide supplier of witches' specialized, personal toys.

The name was Hermione's brain child, after Del Toro, her Latin lover. It was named 'Amigos' which means 'friends' per her press release. “I thought Amigos instead of Friends would be so clever.” Yeah, it sort of was, maybe.

And the financial empire was born. The first real family of products was the 'Amigos' family, and their first line was the advertised as, ' The Best Friend of A Modern Witch's Kitty.'

Soon George and Ron were fighting the witches off. Alas, Hermione was not so lucky, her brief success in the dating world seem doomed to failure. She was under a curse, all her lovers had been a hit and run, just as Del Toro. The word was out, "Dating Granger was truly a danger."

There were pop songs written about her, the most popular one was, ‘Granger’s Cursed-Kitty’s Danger”

**Happy Kittens -**

Each of the soft lined pouches discreetly hid one of the Happy Kittens Amigos' Best Friend; one of the products from their first line of personal toys, for the modern witch in touch with her, —Personal Needs.

Let it be your true best friend, take it wherever you go; and let your 'friend' satisfy all your most intimate needs, that was the writing, inside the pouch, on a nicely folded scroll. The same was published in public advertisement. However, not everyone one understood the meaning of the writing in the scroll; and many Wizarding world members still wondered what kind of friend that was.

A good illustration of the lack of clarity of their advertisement, happened during dinner at the Longbottoms. Augusta Longbottom asked Neville. "Darling, do you think I need a Happy Kitten?" She asked not knowing what it was. Ginny Longbottom had to leave the room in a fit of laughter, and before she would wet her pants from laughing so hard. Neville had turned bright red, "Err, Grandmother, I really don't think you should get one; probably,err, you, err, never mind..."

"But Neville, darling, you invested our Galleons, well done may I add. And, according to the Prophet, all single witches and widows, ought to have one to make them happy. And only the Creator knows how much I could use a little happiness—until there are little ones ..." Neville ran from the room, as fast as he could, pretending sickness.

Teddy Lupin kept pestering his parents, "I want a kitten. Kittens are happiest and good friends." And a little more forceful, "You give me one, I WANT ONE OF MY OWN, A BIG, THE MOST BIGGEST KITTEN." And he crossed his arms pouting, "Mommy tolds Auntie Hermi, that Aunt Gini has two biggies, and she will not share; and that mommy had to go and buy her own, but I cannot find the kitty." And he pitched at major fit.

Remus was furious with Dora and Hermione, and confronted them after Teddy's last blowout.

"Why do you talk such rubbish around Teddy? If he keeps asking, you will explain it to him. Not I, no sir; no way, the two of you will. And Dora why do you need one?"

He asked, totally indignant, before he realized his folly, and blushed at his wife's raised eyebrows. Too bad that Tonks was not able to keep a straight face and broke into a guffaw. Dora and Hermione laughed for a while, while Remus covered his head with a pillow.

**Fred's Homage**

From an article —Each line in the market, after tested and proven safe is released. The Amigos line has been introduced by the remaining half of the WWW founders, George Weasley, created out his love for all witches, and in memory of his best-half, Fred Weasley, who borne each of the inventions—

And yes, the original ideas were Fred's, as his statue and a plaque at the entrance, of the new several stories high building at the entrance of Knockturn Alley, attested:

_—Frederick Weasley's great mind and his love for witches made it all possible. A world full of happy and satisfied witches and their happy 'kittens,' wish that you were still here with us.'_

We love you, George, Ron and Hermione—

**Molly's Conversion**

The international overnight success of the local grassroots industry that produced the magical enhanced sex toys for witches, had spilled over the entire Weasley family, and the community itself.

The 'Weasleys Wizards Wheezes,' WWW's magic shop had expanded, and the main manufacturing of products and potions were now made at a newly renovated, reclaimed portion of Knockturn Alley. The Potion's Master was The Bat, who reigned in the newly renovated cellar, indeed, the Kitten's PM was the one and only, Severus Snape.

All Weasley' s family members were enjoying the rewards of the new prosperity, and the chances of personal growth and employment, all except Molly.

"The way you are all making Galleons is truly indecent. I don't even want to be seen by anyone when I go to Diagon Alley. You trade on the very Devil’s tools; no wonder the new offices are located at Knocturn Alley where they belong. Pure filth and rubbish, is what they are." She ranted and raved to the family, daily.

Well, that was until four months earlier. The fated day when Arthur went home for lunch on the spur of the moment. Upon arriving at the Burrow, he caught her leaning on the kitchen board, with a small pouch laid on top of it, half opened, and she was carefully touching it, with two fingers. She was obviously trying to get the courage to do something with it, uncharacteristically giggling, and a finger patting her lips.

Arthur's interest was piqued when he recognized the packaging of one of the Amigos, "Molly-woobles, what do you have in your hand, and what on earth are you doing? Oh, I see. May I be of some help?" He was quick witted, after all.

Nobody was appraised as to Molly's actual findings during that lunch hour. One could only judge by one relaxed, smiling Arthur, who said, "Sons, your Mom has accepted the job to manage the company's child care, restaurant, and other social support operations. She will start right upon our return. We are taking a four week holiday at the south of France." He told his surprised family during the afternoon's board meeting.

"And how did you manage for her to come around? Did you perchance used on her, hmm, the Weasley wizards' hidden charm?" Grinned George, lewdly raising his eyebrows, as his brethren and kin guffawed maliciously, except for Charlie.

"Oh, that is so gross, I need to wash my ears," said Charlie.

"Yes father, do tell how she changed her mind since this morning; and how is it, that just in a few hours she has accepted to work here; at the Devil's manufacture of dark evil gadgets. I would like quote her own words, "Your Amigos will corrupt every good witch in the world. I will never, ever, go to into that cesspool you call work," taunted Ron.

Arthur looked at his nails and smiled mysteriously. What he knew, he wasn't telling. It was between Molly, him, and their best amigo.


	3. A Curse

**A Curse Named Fenrir**

Disclaimer: JKR is the creator if the HP world

**The old Guard, or Recycling, or the Beauty and the Wolf**

The new company not only brought wealth to the London Wizarding community, but it also triggered an area wide urban renewal. Thus far, it had reclaimed and cleaned up consecutive blocks of the disreputable Knockturn-Alley.

Once the renewal started, more and more of the Alley was recovered and made into a fashionable area. A few darker shops remained, cleverly disguised as respectable business, which attracted a hip young clientele into the dangerous dark shops. The gain in real property prices, made respectable citizens of unsavory characters; yes, the change created a win-win situation, for most.

Because of the inventory stored, and the articles produced in the new company, security risks were high. The mere fact that the next door neighbor tenants, were not pristine citizens, made protecting their property a real challenge.

Many reformed Death Eaters, DE, were released as part of an early parole program sanctioned by the Ministry. They were recommended as candidates to the program by Percy Weasley, the Early Release Program Director. Percy moonlighted, employed as a consultant at WWW and paid exorbitant fees. The successful program had was fully backed by the Aurors now that Harry was next in charge, and who, casually, also drew a hefty fee for attending the meetings.

There were those who suspected pay-offs, but it wasn't the case, or was it? Just ask Harry, whose comments during one of the meetings made everyone wonder, "Wait there George, I am looking at the financial report, "and he pointed at a line item, "Isn't this a conflict of interest, paying Percy a 3,500 Galleons per month consulting fee, just for the meeting's attendance?" Asked, the concerned Auror, Harry Potter, who sat as member of the board.

After all, he was not drawing any fees, except for the monthly reimbursement of 1,999 Galleons, just for the expenses incurred to attend the monthly board meetings. Hmm, mighty high steep expenses to apparate for a two hour meeting. And, wait how about the returns on his investments and a few fringe benefits, which all together came around 99,999 Galleons per year, hmm, what is wrong in this picture?

The heavily guarded factory provided a buffer zone between the criminal element and Diagon-Alley. The need for security, and WWW being an Equal Opportunity Employer, had also created work to employ many vagrant and pesky, evil doers, not longer employed by Voldi. By doing so, former dangerous Death Eaters, DE, no longer lived on the street, or in the fringes of society, and they were being paid to keep others away from the booming enterprise.

The end result was tangible, one Death Eater in, through the WWW's gates, and one respectable citizen out, Eureka! Pure Magic in its purest form. And many of the former Des were quite handsome, but maybe for their teeth, hmm. Nota bad deal, the embellishing of the local environs with eye candy. Truly, the new sense of accomplishment and regular pay was working wonders towards the reformation of the former prisoners and thugs.

In turn, with their new found wealth, the, now, legal enforcers were making a life of their own. They wanted to live where they felt comfortable; thus, they were buying the closest property and renovating them into decent flats.

Seamus Finnegan, an enterprising wizard, true to his roots, has an eye for opportunity. He opened the first decent lunch bistro, right next door to the WWW Happy Kittens' HQ. The continental bistro served cuppas and cappuccinos until 3:00 PM, and delivered magically cooked meals, after dark, to the, now, more affluent residents of the Knocturn-Alley.

The scary group, a subject of many young witches' dreams, had a suitable leader. He was none other than a notoriously vicious, rakish, roguish, well built, ultra-attractive, curry-hot, sexy-cushy-tight-yummy-bum, the one and only Alpha-Werewolf- Fenrir Greyback—Those were the exact words of Hermione to a friend in the USA, verbatim—

He only worked the day shift for obvious reasons, "I love the moon and would miss it if I were to work the late shift," he told his employers. The Dark wizard and werewolf was a mystery; part of his salary was delivered to a shed at the back of the main building, right next to the industrial size, waste bins. Later, it became part of his benefits package to include other 'products.'

The weekly deliveries came from an expensive butchery outside of London dealing only with organically fed-beef. The burly men delivered very large bundles wrapped in white paper, and the contents resembled entire carcasses, as for the dark stains, we can only guess. The contents were best left unknown. He was good at hiding his wolf's needs.

The Head of the Internal Security to include Physical Security, was Gregory Hoyle, who was on probation. He had an incredible knack at finding holes in the wards; and at catching employees either skimming or taking home the company's property. He loved dispensing swift discipline. His motto, 'Spare the rods, breed thieves and crooks,' clearly defined his ideas of dealing with his 'boys,' as well as the freely given, positive-ly (painful) reinforcements when they didn't learn the first time. Thus, he found the job, rather well suited to his bullying personality.

The new sense of being in control and legal use of their brawn, empowered the nasty bunch. They all looked great in their dark robes and garbs, displaying the less serious WWW logo. Greg wore his dark, foreboding robes with hessian boots, gave him the appearance of a military ruffian which his wife loved. Millicent would often tell Pansy, "I love Greg in a uniform; it makes me warm all over; he looks dark, mean, and dangerous," duh.

Fenrir, usually wore his dark robes without anything under, the wolf was too warm under the dark robes. And he was grateful how the dark shade hid the occasional blood drips that the alpha werewolf was famous for. When someone, stupid enough, would point them out, "Just a few drips from my lunch," was his stern answer. Get real, who would question Fenrir?

In the words of Scabior, a former snatcher, dressed in a flashy HK-WWW guard's uniform and displaying a, now, healthy smile, during an international's telly interview: "I'ctually gots me a fat w'kly purse, and also gots me a Gringott 's vault. I gots me paid noth'ng, under you-know-who. And best if all, I don't gots me to be on the run."

He told the reporter, cockily pointing his finger to his embroidered name, and to the red and gold emblem. "I'm a proud guard at WWW, the maker of your best Amigo.'" And he winked to all his admirers out there. "All witches needs a good Amigo," wink, wink.

True, all true, and besides that, they had a nice health and dental benefits, retirement, and a disability package. Their package, designed by Hermione, included, premium pays nights and bank holidays, continuing education, sensitivity training, discounted cafeteria food, office parties, outings, and even paid vacations. The remedial learning classes, taught by volunteers, were an added gift to the young wizards who had grown in dismal homes.

Hermione's classes were very popular with the lot. Of course, they were monitored by the friendly Chief of the Guard, who sat in the back and made sure all the students refrained from making unrequested advances. They were taught basic social skills such as, how to manage your budget, magical cooking, laundering, the merits of personal hygiene, basic table and overall manners, and so on.

One resourceful old widow came and taught them ballroom dancing and the old art of courting. After the war, the Dark Eater's widow had been left rather poor, and once again, she could afford a house-elf and was able to feed the wild creatures who came to her stead.

An old clothier, down on his luck, came and instructed the young hooligans, on the art of fine dressing. Soon thereafter, his old, forgotten store, located at the less affluent section of Diagon Alley, was now the new affluent guards' store of choice to buy fine robes, waistcoats, shirts, jumpers, shoes, socks, undergarments, cravats, and trousers.

He even allowed for horrible color and pattern combinations to keep them happy. The Knockturn Alley renaissance was spilling into Diagon Alley, and an old Tailor's shop soon regained its old luster; but he was not alone, just one of many.

Nothing is perfect; thus, the old adage of, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions,' should have stayed in the forefront of all the managerial decisions. It was but a week before common sense had to intervene.

The 'Weezie Guard,' as nicknamed by the press, was basically given the right to legally bully, all those whom they might deemed as 'suspicious, armed, and dangerous.' Courtesy of the special permission issued by the Auror Division of the MoM, after all, it pays to have collaborators in high places, i.e. Harry Potter. The right was promptly abused, and corrective actions were resisted by their Chief.

"Lord Greyback," he insisted on his title, "attacking a half-blind 124 year old wizard, carrying baguettes inside clear plastic, because he was assessed as 'potentially dangerous,' would be deemed as absurd, and extremely abussive by anyone in their right mind. I would say they wanted to be heavies," Hermione argued with Fenrir.

"My dear Miss Granger some of the boys are hot blooded, poor misguided souls; they had never seen loafs of French bread, and they thought they were a sort of Muggle weapon," he smiled one of his scary wolfish grins, thinking he had been, ever, so sly.

Hermione knew better, they were THUGS. Fenrir would only allow Hermione to talk to him, and his reasons were of a delicate nature, ehem.

While it was true that he was somehow reformed, and this was the reason for his early release, it didn't amount to much, he was only a teensy weeny changed. He was part of a pilot program to reform the worst of the worst: however, the honest truth was that he had taken the job needing Galleons to rebuild his pack whilst his vaults were frozen.

However, the most important reason for accepting a job, was the fact that he craved to be around the exquisite fragrance of one Hermione witch. He wished for her to see how he had changed, and how worthy he was of her attention.

He had never taken the Dark Mark, and besides most of the things said about him were pure rubbish. He would often let his inner wolf conduct a self-dialogue referring to Fenrir in third person. It dated from his time in Oxford, his wolf was a thinker and loved to analyze Fenrir, his name was Plato.

Fenrir loved projecting the dark persona; but the killer he was made out to be, it just wasn't true. Whereas he might have bitten a few people, this was to be expected, how else could he find new young bloods, whose contributions were always needed? He easily reasoned that biting was to be expected if you were a werewolf; he needed to bite a few, and in the process he might have killed a couple, well, it wasn't a perfect science and accidents were bound to happen. Fenrir shrugged his shoulders thinking about it.

And, perhaps, maybe, it was possible that he might have killed some in self-defense, although he was not a complete beast, eating children, raping, bah—who in their right mind would want an unwilling bitch, not him. Why do that when there are so many willing to be mounted? "Not mounted, to have sex," Fenrir corrected his wolf. Yes, Fenrir was not a beast, no on your life time.

Sure, one should allow Fenrir's wolf to live a life of self-denial.

Lastly, he had a real secret reason, it gave him an edge, he had access to knowledge and knowledge is power.

Indeed, Fenrir on his new job, had access to the information he needed, and it came practically from the source. He was able to know and to learn first hand, the identities of the petite witch's new love interests.

The knowledge gave him a winning edge to 'remove' any competition before the affair gathered momentum. Kill the problem before it grows, right at the root. It is sort of, hmm, like, like, yes, like gardening. "I am just a gardener who swiftly deals with life's problems," he concluded.

He had fallen for her since the moment he had caught her, when he was a snatcher. Her sweet scent, smarts, magic, and her beauty had stuck to him, and had never left since that same day.

That same day, he knew that he had found the dreaded: M-A-T-E. The one he had avoided all his life like the wolf's plague. Lord Greyback's days as a ladies' man, as the lone wolf, as the lupine sex-machine, were forever gone; alas, to his profound regret, he had not shagged since that day several years ago.

It was one of the downsides of being a wolf, or better said, a Greyback; it was a curse, once you found your mate; the only one who would elicit sexual urges was your mate, unless that she died, and they you were forever sad. It absolutely sucked, excuse him, stunk.

During the last battle, at DH, he nearly got killed for watching her back, and it was the biggest reason for his short stint at Azkaban. He had, single handed, saved all her friends from certain death. Even her damn professors, because he had made it a point to find out all those important to her, and he made sure not even one of her Dumbledore's Army group had died, not one of her personal friends.

Except the Weasley boy, Fenrir had not seen the explosion coming. As for Severus, that qualified as one great deed, and everyone benefited from his genius these days, even a certain blond witch.

His deeds were so extraordinary, that even the rescued ones had problems believing it.

****

**A Pup's Love –A Mother's Nightmare**

Tonks was horrified at Teddy's new hero, "Mommy I am going to be just likes uncle Fenny when I am a big wizard."

Yes, Teddy had other heroes besides Harry Potter, Auntie Hermi, and Weezie (Fenrir's name for Ron). All true, but nobody came close to Uncle Fenny, he knew that Fenrir was a wolf, and loved him so. He considered him close to a god, or to his alpha. The later couldn't be repeated in front of Tonk's. She had stopped eating for several days when Teddy'd said, "Mommy, I finks Uncle Fenny is my alpha. I heards Daddy talking of the alpha wif Mr. Bill."

She went catatonic, so bad was her reaction that Teddy now thought that alpha was a bad word.

Uncle Fenny had saved his mommy and daddy, so what was not to love. He would beg to be taken by Fenrir's job and would bring him biscuits. Teddy was a well adjusted young wizard; and he already had a main role model much to Dora's growing horror. There was no stopping the adoration.

He drew love pictures of his hero and himself in lupine form, a blue stripe down his back; and Tonks would cry looking at them. "Mommy, I am going to be a wolfie just like him." And would smooch, and worse still, lick his picture...poor Dora Tonks, she was raising the future right hand of Fenrir Greyback, and was in denial. She didn't want to see the writing on the wall.

Remus was more than grateful, afterall, he owed two life debts to his previously hated maker. He owed so him so much, that he was re-engineered Fenrir's graceful host. Who always came dressed in his fancy threads and carrying flowers, jewels, silks, and perfumes for Tonks, wine and books for Remus, and toys and sweets, for the little one.

The wolf loved the delicious smell of a young wolf pup; a young wolf not yet perceived by his parents. He knew that Remus would be upset, but he should not, Teddy was a true shifter like him. It made the bad wolf dream of his future pups, little babes with curly huir. And, hopefully, he would sire one tiny bitchy for his favorite pup, Teddy Lupin. Ah, to have little ones, Remus was one lucky wolf.

His feelings for the little bitch, his bitch, as in a female wolf, his future mate, were making him soft. At least that was his idea of the wolf he had become. She must have known knew when she gave him a small hug and an air kiss in both cheeks, after the battle; and it had made it all worth.

He would close his eyes and imagined that she had been just a little shy, she was so sweet. It had never crossed his mind that she might be just a tad afraid, never, noway.

Life was good for Fenrir, especially now that the word was out: "Those who had dared to court Hermione, would encounter, always, some sort of nasty accident, or would have horrifying eerie encounters…better safe than sorry, stay away from Miss Granger unless you have a death-wish."

Some said, "Poor Hermione even after the years the Dark Lord is affecting her life, this must be the leftover of a Voldemort's curse." It really, really was, if they only knew. The curse's name was Fenrir Greyback, and it had happened under Voldemort's rule, therefore, magazines were onto the crux of the matter. The curse made front page of every gossip magazine, covering some of the most important affected suitors.

**The Curse aka Fenrir**

(Extract from a gossip column)

Is the new Magical industry's tycoon, the brains of the Golden Trio, Lady Hermione Granger, the No. 1 European, Single Witch, a victim from a leftover 'You know who's' curse? That is the question of the moment and one without an apparent answer.

Ah, to be so rich, so beautiful, and so utterly doomed; poor dear witch whose only hope is that a knight can rescue her from her lonely fate.

Dear readers, I can safely ascertain that it will neither be Lord Potter No. 1 Single, nor the No. 3 Single Wizard, Mr. R. Weasley, because the two über-sexy wizards' rumored doomed triad, was also cursed. We don't know what happened, but that their great love suddenly saw its end. Yes, it is true, hidden Dark forces will not let go of this tragic beauty...

—To date, some of the most important affected suitors:

1\. Lord Justin Flinch-Fletcher: On a clear fall day, he was found tied with heavy ropes inside of the rubbish bin at the back of the Flying Chef, a very nice restaurant .

During the five previous consecutive days the incident, he had eaten at that very restaurant with one certain curly hair witch.

While eating their lunch he had been observed seriously kissing her more than once -see the three top photos to the left.- When he was found, his mouth was heavily taped with duct tape in the shape of an X, and a note attached, "Dumped in the rubbish bin where he belongs. He should count his blessings and owes his life to a curly haired angel. He is lucky to be alive. Furthermore, he must keep his lips away from Miss Granger, or his life is in mortal danger."

Who are the thugs?

\- Sir Cormac McLaggen: He was attacked by unknown assailant(s). It was dark, and he had just Apparated in front the flat of the witch. They were going to a Club recently opened in the Alley; it was their third date in two weeks. He later told this reporter, he had wanted to marry her, but, to his forever regret, that would be signing his death warrant. Yes, if the curse were removed he would marry her.

He was found chained to the door of the club. Hermione was heard saying just a few days before, "He is the true dirty-dancer; he is one hot, Mr. Golden Shoes. Yes, he is right, we are rather serious. Maybe by this time this year, my last name will have change."

His shoes were nowhere to be found, his feet were encased in gold paste, and his expensive robes were throughly covered with dirt. No note was found. Maybe he was a true 'dirty' dancer with golden shoes.

\- George Weasley: After an all 'night-er', he was chased by a pack of wild dogs after dropping Hermione at her flat (see photo in the top right). His clothes were torn after running a mile; he was so afraid that he forgot about his wand. Months after the incident,he is still afraid of even small canines.

"I wanted it to be something with Hermione. After my brother broke up with her, I wanted to have a chance, but I heard the dogs talking, "If you see her again, you are as good as dog-chow." My choices are clear." Mr. Weasley, Number Four Single Wizard, told us with eyes full of sadness and regret.

\- Socialite, Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy: He was kidnapped and held captive in a cold cave. Five days passed before he was found, almost frozen. He had gone in a ten-day pre-engagement cruise to the North Pole, with, yes, you all have guessed, Lady Hermione. His family had already made an announcement of the coming engagement party, and invitations had been sent; it was a done deal.

Upon their return, he dropped her at her flat, and after spending the day inside, observers affirmed, he kissed her passionately at the door (see photo at left). He was taken away by unknown assailants before he reached his Ferrari. Nobody, including him, saw his assailants since he was knocked out cold with a spell.

The street lights were out for a few minutes, and a ransom note was never sent; however, an anonymous owl was received at the Ministry. "The punishment fits the crime. He dared to take her in a cold ride. Come and find one frozen penguin at —" As for his exclusive green and silver magically modified car, it was ruined; someone had scratched the Slytherin green Ferrari with four deep grooves, what vandals!

Will the tragic heroine, with the sad doe eyes, ever find happiness; can a curse breaker release her from eternal loneliness; let us … Blah, blah, blah.

End of gossip column

Fenrir bought several copies; he was proud of his handy work and pasted them in his private break room."Just for information," he told others.

**Why fear Fenrir?**

The most significant change about Fenrir was the fact he no longer sported the werewolf look. He did not like that persona for his current job. He kept his human appearance, and he was one handsome wizard.

His was a very masculine beauty; the nose had been broken in pack brawls, and not always well repaired, and his eyes were the colour of steel, sometimes with blue highlights.

He had a uniquely striped hair, silver, black and platinum, and a couple of white blond patches. His chest was wide and powerful, a narrow waist and a tight bum; and the solid lean built of predator, with long, strong limbs, and very large hands and feet.

Many Hogwarts students, of all sexes, would come around to look at him and the rough guards. Occasionally they would ask the wolf for a picture, and he would growl menacing. Reform only went so far.

"Poor wolfy," in the words of Teddy Lupin during those times when he would detect sadness in Fenrir, especially after looking at aunt Hermi's pictures, and the blue haired tiny wizard would sit by Fenrir's side to scratch him behind his ears, to his delight. So Fenrir would gift Teddy with his happy growl, which would make Tonks' whimper in horror. But when Teddy growled back, Dora kept thinking it sounded too real, and hoped she was wrong.

Yes, Fenrir had noticed Dora's fear, and it had him baffled, but not as much as the anxiety that he sensed from his petite witch, why should she be distressed around him?

He felt that Hermione was afraid for her safety, and he couldn't figure out why. She needed not to be afraid with him around her, she was the most precious person in the entire universe, he thought. Never, not once, it crossed his mind that she was terrified just sitting by his side. Yes, and it made him sad, little Teddy was a sensitive cub, and he knew exactly when Uncle Fenny was not feeling well.


	4. Fenrir's Intended

Fenrir's Intended

I must confess that I had a lot of fun writing this.

xox

**Fenrir's Delicious Hermione-**

The poor cub, she shouldn't be afraid of him. Ok, maybe, she should, at least for the first fifty or so times after their initial mating. Yes, she should fear him, not the man, because he was a gentleman, or so he thought. Whereas, he wasn't the problem, he was certain, that his wolf would go crazy with lust. Fenrir already knew that during mating, the wolf would be mostly in control, and Plato was going to hurt her.

Plato was a beast, and he liked it rough. Plato wasn't a gentle lover and loved to bite, nip, and an occasional scratch. Besides, he was rather endowed, and that was being modest; he knew she would be afraid, and it worried him. An occasional witch or two or maybe a couple dozen, bailed out the moment they'd seen him naked. He couldn't let her see him during the first few times; it was no trickery, simply a preventive measure insuring his future; Fenrir often ruminated this most sensitive issue.

Oh well, he would just ask Snape for some good pain potions for his tiny mate. Fenrir was well advised by Plato, during their inner dialogue. _After all, The Bat owes me that and then some. I saved his sorry, skinny arse, didn't I? Now that he has the cushy job, nice robes, fancy car, and the big lab in the basement of the main building, he needs to pay his debts. And if not, I will tell Lucius where Narcissa likes to spend the evenings when she goes out shopping. Should we disclose the truth? "Well, dear Lucius, your blond, sorry excuse for a mate, does her shopping at the penthouse of the new building, two streets over from the Happy Kittens Headquarters. Yes, you are right dear friend, it is the same building owned by Snape."_

Yes, Fenrir had one or two aces up his sleeve, and he thought of blackmail as a small push, an incentive of sorts.

Hermione might have been the reason behind rebuilding the old wealthy manor; the Unplotted grandiose, Greyback Lair. His plan was simple, he hoped that stable employment would give him back control of the frozen family vaults. However, he wasn't disclosing the reason motivating him, not to anyone; albeit his father already knew it.

If wizards like Malfoy, would know the truth, that Fenrir had pretended to be broke during the war years, just to get freebies from Malfoy Manor for all his pack...he might be one dead wolf.

Not his fault, he wasn't cheap, but Voldemort was a terrible employer, and the Alpha didn't work for free. Not that he needed the freebies, it was a matter of principle, since he had vaults that would put Malfoy's to shame. His father was basically royalty, a direct descendant from the original shifters that came through the portals over 4,500 years ago. Hell, they still had circlets, crowns, jeweled wands, and tiaras, and more, from long ago times. All stored in the vaults at the Lair's deep vaults.

"Fenrir, so why are you so keen in pretending to turn a new leaf? You can always come and work for me, if you need a job. But I am in the same shape that you are, we all are, our vaults are frozen." Malfoy asked him during a recent visit.

Lucius smelled a clean wolf; something was brewing right under his nose. And if there was something to be gained, it would be by him, not by the dog. The crafty beast had something under his paw, and Malfoy didn't like it, not at all.

Lucius liked it even less whenever he watched Narcissa; she made a fool out of herself every single time, whenever the Lord of the Beasts, sporting a very old ring, came by the Manor. Lucius preferred when Fenrir had looked like the wolf he was; not this new persona of royal bearing, expensive clothes, and whose mien clearly hid something from him.

He didn't like competition, these were Malfoy's hunting grounds, and the blond was HIS. Oh, yes, she was a Malfoy's witch. Little did he know that a bat was already sampling the Malfoy's witch; and that Cissy had more than once had propositioned Fenrir. Of course, he had turned her down. Bad, naughty, unloyal, unfaithful witch, and he had a code of honor, and Lucius was a friend. Many times, he had wanted to punish the disloyal pair. He couldn't, because his witch needed The Bat.

People didn't know Fenrir and judged him as an animal. People, included Lucius, and it was better that way. They had no idea that he was very intelligent, educated, and cunning. He held a doctor in philosophy from Oxford. Hence Plato's name, chosen by the wolf.

So what did they know? He wanted to convert his petite witch, to share with her the gift of at least times longer life span. Plus give all the added healing abilities; i.e. shifting at will, not to mention the powerfully dark magic that would come from mating him.

He only had given the shifter's gift to Remus, who had finally accepted him; and now, his human pup no longer had scars. Then there was the Weasley cub, who still hated him with a passion.

Let's not forget the Lavender bitch; in his defense she had that one coming as well. He had bitten her because she had shagged the princess' beau, behind her back. Not that he liked competition, but nobody made his bitchy cry. At the end of the day, they were all strong cubs for his pack, once they accepted him. The truth be said, he'd suspected the M.a.t.e. call since the witch was nothing but a pup, one day when he had seen her in Hogwarts, a day he had been walking with Remus, his cub. After that day, he, often, hanged around the grounds in his wolf form, to check on him, well, and on the tiny promise of something greater. It had made him a little ashamed to feel the pull she had, even back then.

These days, he was always clean. He never forgot to shower, albeit he preferred dips in a pond. The Lair had one, and he made sure to keep stocked with tasty fish; nothing better than a dip, fresh caught fish, and a roll in the grass. The fish was fried by the cook, once in a while, unless he was too hungry, then, it was fish tartar.

He often wondered if his mate would swim with him. Both naked and he would mount, err, make love to her. "I can see it; my cock pounding inside of her wet, slick happy pus—err, kitten, ha, ha, ha, ha, a wet kitty and a cock, ha, ha," he laughed while conducting a soliloquy. Yup, he loved to talk with himself, mostly, because he loved his own humour.

The laughter never lasted because, Plato, the narrator would take over _. 'And that beautiful mane, made of beautiful curly tresses; I would wrap it around my hand and use it to drag her to sit on my sword…And I will bury my nose in her pussy, err, kitten, for a pit stop...I would lick her entire curvy body, up and down, every nook and cranny... After the tasting feast, I would make one crucial stop; she will be so delicious. So very delicious,that when, I'd finally have his tongue past her nether lips...Hmm, we'd make love to her with our long tongue, until she screamed with pleasure begging for more. Her flavor invading our senses, oh...'_

"Stop it Plato, we are still at work," he always had to admonish his wolf. "Damn, I must have her soon, six years not shagging and just using my hand, is a tad long. And only Hermione can get me this randy." He would mumble in the midst of his angst.

Even if he was 82 years, 6 years wasn't a long time, but he was in his prime. His father had been over 360 years old when he had sired him; he was another lone wolf. He had hated the bitch, Fenrir's mother, because his real mate had been killed at the guillotine in 1791. She had been a French royal, and they also killed his daughter and son while he had watched from afar, he had been a little too late. He hadn't converted her and always told Fenrir not to make that mistake.

The old codger, now all grey fur, told him whenever he saw him, "Cub, you need to jump your lady, and the same day, bite her and grant her the gift; if I had, Marie Louise would still be here with me. I wanted to respect her being a human witch, what an idiot I was. She will get over her anger. When are you going to give me grand pups? I am way over 400 years old and only have 200 or so years to live, maybe. Make this old wolf happy."

He needed to shag his mate and make her his in any case, before he lost control and jumped her. He had to visit his pup tonight and ask him for advice. However, he didn't like his laughter as he related his wooing to him. Last time Remus had lost it, over the machete incident, which he thought of it, as particularly clever and suave.

Remus had cried actual tears, in a fit of laughter, and every time he saw the machete, he couldn't stop. Fenrir just didn't get it, something was wrong with one of his favorite cubs.

Granted Remus had some clever ideas, he had advised him to return Draco before he froze, and had recommended him what to write in the Owl sent to his parents. Fenrir detected Remus' smidgen of hate for the Malfoys. He personally liked them, but the witch was not for Lucius' boy. Even if the crafty blond insisted. "I hope Draco loses his fear and pursues Miss Granger again, don't you agree dear Fenrir?" No, he didn't agree.

He brushed his teeth, at least once a week, well daily, since she had commented, "Wow, your teeth are so, so white, and your breath is minty fresh." Whereby, he was baffled at her shaking whenever she looked at his clean, gleaming teeth.

The reason behind her tremors was simple, it was because the words, "The better to eat you with my dear," that she could hear looking at those pearly canines, shining at her whenever he smiled. However, the minty comment was sincere; it was the first time that she was not overpowered by the sharp copper bloody scent, and the somehow rotten-meat stench.

He was smart and knew that she would never forgive his trespasses, but he liked keeping an eye on her and getting rid of his competition, and he was a good hunter and a born alpha. You never knew if or when an opportunity might arise, and he was a man, but first and foremost, he was a wolf, "Do not mistake who I am, unless that you have a death wish," he would tell his men daily, "just to keep them in line."

Later, he would report back to Greg, rather coyly. After all, WWW didn't want their employees being abused. Greg, who wanted to stay alive, would smile weakly. Fenrir just wanted to remind everyone of his wolfish nature, which he deemed necessary in his leadership position over his, rag-tag, security troops.

Most of the other guards, were young hoods, or misguided Dark followers such as Scabior, each one of them more dangerous than the next, and all, dreamy wizards. There were also a few notorious had-beens. Even old Mondongus came later to ask for employment. And Arthur who had a soft spot for the old crook, had sent Hermione to talk to the Chief of Physical Security.

Everyone knew that she was the only one besides Greg that he would talk to. Arthur was a smart man, compassionate but not a fool. Besides, he refused to talk to the monster, who now demanded to be addressed by his title, Lord Greyback.

The git was even wearing his family's ring, gold, with inlayed precious stones, a gargantuan display of wealth and bad taste, according to Arthur. "It only calls attention to his long nails, and the pieces of dried blood and meat under them," was Molly response to Arthur's scathing comment about the wolf's new airs and the family ring.

**Making a Date –**

/ **A Courting - Little Red Riding Hermione**

When he met with Hermione, he never really heard one word she said and always nodded his head. His mind was gone; and all the blood would rush out of his brain down south, and even before he saw her, he could smell her.

His eyes were glued to her face and her neck, his mouth was always fixed in a forced smile that scared her to death. His, now, brushed teeth that always gleamed, were a result part of the mandatory private health program. Which was deducted right out their earnings and was offered at the new Muggle-magic dental surgery at the Diagon Alley, ran by, you guessed, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

At the end he would make a request, "ok, Mistress, I agree, always your servant, and do you mind sending me a scroll of our conversation? It is so that I will not forget to do things, just like you want them," cunning eh?

Instead of looking anywhere sexy, the forced smile displayed his gigantic-wolfish-sharp teeth. Making him look like the wolf he was, ready and willing to attack her, and then have a yummy snack. And that appraising, would always lead her mind to unbidden conclusions; namely, that Fenrir was like a customer at the butcher. She interpreted his checking her out, to be exactly the same as when the customer, Fenrir, would appraise a juicy piece of steak, Hermione. And that perceived behavior, was enough to give her nightmares.

His continuous leaning forward to loudly sniff her, his little growls and tiny whimpers, and the way he sometimes brought one of her loose curls to his nose, served as warning of his intensions, dinner and bed. That is what romantic Fenrir thought that when he spoke the wolf-language of love, he was telling her, "My love, let us have dinner, and then, I will ravish you."

To Fenrir's misfortune, what Hermione heard was, "Run for your life." The story of little red riding-hood often came up these days, to the witch's troubled mind. In her interpretation, he was saying, "Hermione, my dear, I will ravish you, and then, you will gobble you up." Something got lost in translation, maybe she was using a wolfish-google-translator, hmm.

Red Riding Hood had turned into Teddy's favorite story for the wrong reasons. Last time, he visited the Lupins, Teddy had shared his views. Fenrir was just leaving but stayed a little while longer when he saw that Hermione was there and reading to the pup.

"Auntie Hermi, poor wolfie," Teddy had gathered the book and puckered his lips, in disagreement, "I wish he could eat her. What if little red hood was really alicious? Maybe he loves the little red hood, and she is very tasty. I might want to taste one, when I am big and a wolf." Dora's skin turned icy cold at Teddy's innocent remarks, her son the human eater.

In a fluid move, Teddy stood on the couch and leaned unto Hermione's shoulder, "That is what Uncle Fenny says. He says witches are alicius, and the mostest is you, right Uncle Fenny?" And Teddy licked her cheek, "You don't taste like candy, yuck," the pup said while wiping his tongue with his hand.

Remus and Fenrir let out a raucously loud guffaw; and both Aunt Hermi and Tonks were quite scared, one for her son, and the other for her own safety.

And there was the time; when Fenrir hay pulled that machete, he kept just in case, in a leather sleeve tied to his belt. He swung the machete in a graceful, elegant arch, and chopped a large chunk of her hair, "there was a dangerous spider climbing up," he shrugged his shoulders at his explanation, smirked, and turned up his hands.

Hermione had just seen her life ebbing away. Yes, he was going to cut her up in pieces, she closed her eyes, and when only a piece of her hair was gone, she kept her mouth shut. She later wondered why he had wrapped it in a clean piece of linen. Had he cut the lock of her hair to take home with him? And why? To use in a dark magic potion? It had been as easy as if he was cutting a flower during a walk.

That morning, Hermione had held one of her meetings with Fenrir. They liked to walk outside, in the small garden on the back of the factory. It had been built less than a month ago. It had a few trees, and a magically enhanced run, that instead of being a few meters, went on for a couple of kilometers. It also had a few benches where they usually sat.

Hermione was not a dummy and starting putting pieces together. Often, there was the occasionally-visible-enormous bulge under his robes, No trousers today, he is going commando, oh how gross, Merlin help me. But her eyes kept going at the size of his thing, holly molly, look at that. I wonder if it is for me?

This type of incident did not help to control her flight and run instinct. She didn't want to be eaten by the big, bad wolf, not in ny way, "Run Hermione, run." A tiny voice would squeal inside her brain; squealing that less audible as time went on. Besides his eyes would be half closed, he was in lust and his nose was even flaring, and he was just not paying attention.

"Miss Granger, if I may be so bold to suggest, ehem, with all the increased crime around those wizards that you seem to hold in your affection," throat cleared, sniff, moved closer, nose flared, sniff, moved even closer to her, and cleverly bent the head towards her, very slowly, maybe she would not notice, sniff, "it might be a good idea to present you with my personal body guard services. You would not even have to pay me. It would be an honour to assist you in any form."

Fenrir, behaving very professionally and concerned, proposed his idea while looking at her; he stared at her with a rather appraising eye, licked his lips at least twice, and moved just a little closer to the small witch, just to breathe her delicious fragrance.

He wondered, for the third time, if she was noticing all his sniffing. Her aroma was so heady, that he wanted to mark her right there; and he was so randy that, soon, he would not be able to walk.

Without effort, he could imagine bending her over, removing her clothes with his mind's powerful magic, kissing her bum, and with one swift stroke, home sweet home. His hips bucked forward at the thought. 'You have to control your urges, damn it,' Fenrir. With stealth, he managed to pull on her curls and up to his nose without her realizing. She never did, he was certain. After all, she would look away from him, always.

"You are such a dear," Hermione was finding more and more difficult to remain cold to the one very big, bad wolf; he scared her silly, but there was a what? A weird feeling low in her stomach every time he came near. And her wet knickers and her hardened nipples, the hot flushes; and like today, she always had to press her thighs together. Darn, _I've no idea why this scary evil-wolf-wizard is eliciting these feelings from me. And the more I see him, the worse it gets. I want the unthinkable and in a bad way. NOOOOOOO._ Her mind screamed horrified.

Moreover, had she known that her arousal was making the wolf wild, she would have been further mortified and truly afraid for her future; as it appeared now, it was furry and full of fangs.

Yup, if one was to judge by him, by the wolf, whose trousers were so tight that he might burst out of them. His bitchy wanted him, and her aroused scent was making him crossed eye. All together the same, she did not like him, not yet.

 _Gods, her yummy smell makes me drool, now, if I could get a little closer and press my thigh against hers, just a little body contact; he gritted his teeth not to groan. If I could press my cock, just once, against her body, I would...no. I wouldn't come; I would mark her right here. Stop_. Fenrir stopped Plato, his inner narrator, and made an effort to listen.

"However, I must decline, you already work too hard. Lord Greyback, I just cannot find it in my heart to further abuse you. Think of your generous escorting during your free time; after all, you already do that twice a week when I teach." She would always find a smart answer, but meanwhile the suitors were more and more afraid to ask her out.

She moved a little farther away from him, and she hoped she would not offend him by doing so. She didn't want to anger him, thus, precipitating a Little Red Riding Hood's reenactment.

He was practically sitting on her lap, his thigh was millimeters away from her, and she could feel his intense heat. Her feverish mind started spewing facts; _werewolves' body temperatures are nearly three degrees higher than a full human's...maybe quite useful during a long, cold winter night...Sigh, to lay ones cold feet against the powerful... Ugh, no, scratch that thought. But...maybe... A bed and Fenrir, oh yeah...his big wolf's hands all over my body, getting closer and closer to... no, no, and definitely, no way._

Hermione disliked the way her mind turned every time she sat by Fenrir. She needed to put a stop to that line of thinking; it was getting worse and worse; what she needed was an outlet, for all the pent-up-sexual tension; but with whom? All her beaus were running away from her; and the amigos' were not helping. The damn wolf's memory intruded her fun, every single time. Gods, she needed help, and she needed it, fast.

"I hear you Miss Granger, but I have already made up my mind, I will be waiting by your car when you leave tonight, I am following you home, and I will stay outside until you go to sleep, this is the night when you stay-in to work in your garden." At seeing her face looking suspicious, as to why did he have so much information. As for the data that he had gathered on her, he had the answer.

He gave her one of the wolfish grins, the ones showing his murderous ivory weapons; the very ones that made her insides turn to ice. Yes, she was scared at the sight of the too sharp canines, gleaming under the sun light.

"Mr. Goyle, has given me your entire schedule this week, yours and the two Mr. Weasleys. His goal is to ensure that you are safe and accounted for, at all times. After all, you could become the target of all the crazies out there, imagine all those still unreformed-awful-Death Eaters." There he had her. A date was on, and he had his plans.

Xox

Oh,oh, What plans does Fenrir and Plato, his inner wolf, have? Poor Hermione, her inner slag wants the big bad wolf.

.


	5. The Wolf's 'Date'

**The Wolf-**

Fenrir had followed Hermione to her fancy flat via Floo; indeed, he was as good as his word. Earlier, he had gone home to pick up a change of clothes, and a few items to entertain his lady, as he told his house-elf.

"Babies? Is you making babies with yous missis; maybe four or five pups, we needs them." His cantankerous, old house-elf demanded in no uncertain terms.

"I'll try, I'll do my best." He grumbled and promised the old elf, wondering how his sex life had become the subject of conversation amongst the house help.

"You do that sir. You be lazy with your job of getting us pups."

Fenrir growled at the shrunken creature, "I say I will try, where is the basket?" He took it from the elf and was ready to leave.

"Son, would you be game for a night-run with the pack? Your half sister will be there." Fenrir's father asked as he was leaving.

"You invited my mother? This is a new one for you. I though you disliked Mother and her, ehem, partner." Fenrir's looked at his father carefully. He wasn't wild about her, neither he was about 'his little sister,' a bratty she-wolf, last he saw her, when was it, hmm, 15 years ago?

"No, only your sister, she is unhappy with their pack. I took the liberty to let her stay here." His father wouldn't look at him on the eye. His father had something up his sleeve, after all, the young she-wolf was not a Greyback. However, he had no time to second guess his father, not at that moment, when he would be much closer to his goal to mate Hermione.

"Not tonight, I am going to Miss Granger's home," and he told his father about his latest win.

"I will follow you and guard the house, you will need privacy," his father, the old Alpha, ascertained. And nobody disobeyed their Alpha; Fenrir growled in frustration. It was their magic, albeit his father was his Alpha, he was the Alpha of the pack; there were old rules, that way your father always had an upper hand, disgusting.

"I am old enough, I don't need a chaperone." Fenrir, assertively, answered his father, and his father properly ignored him.

His father grumbled, "Six years of waiting, I would say that you do." He had made his point, and he was always right.

**At Hermione's-**

Hermione was feeling at odds with herself, and she didn't like it one bit. She invited him inside the house; the reason was simple, she didn't want him outside with her, he made her nervous and a bit edgy. She decided to kick him out when she was done with gardening.

He picked an old book on Philosophy of the Alchemist's Geist. She raised her eyebrow; surely, he wouldn't be able to read a word. She smiled to herself, he was being pretentious, and he noticed her look, "I read this during in my first year in Oxford; it is good light reading." He really meant it, but she didn't believe a word he said. "Sure," she mumbled.

As soon as she stepped out, he changed his clothes, and set out the contents of the picnic basket, that he had brought along. However, her scent, all over the house, was wreaking havoc in his tormented mind.

Hermione was tired since gardening was a hard job. Later tonight, Harry was coming over with Pansy. Hermione could not get over that Pansy liked Harry. War had not been kind to her family, and the two of them made a handsome couple.

She didn't miss the days with her two wizard friends; just the memories of their possessiveness were enough to cool her heels, whenever she caught herself examining one of them a little too long. Besides, at present, she was conflicted with her ardent desire for the wolf. What she didn't know is that Harry liked Pansy, but he didn't love her. Why? The reason was simple because Harry was still lukewarm about Hermione, and yes, he wasn't a good loser.

Fenrir had changed into Muggle trousers, a wide belt with a silver buckle, a body fitting white shirt, and loafers without socks; all bought by his new professional shopper, Mrs. Longbottom. She had started her new consulting job for all the new businessmen around the area, and she was raking the dough.

While Hermione was working outside, he fixed her a glass of the iced tea, the same that his house elf had prepared for today; he remembered the slice of lemon and the mint leave, and voila. He prepared the tray that he brought from the Greyback treasure, silver with encrusted jewels intended as a house warming present, with a few other treats, and the cheese puffs that the elf had also baked for her. Once, all was ready, he called her inside and came to greet her with the glass of cool tea.

She was grateful to be invited to have a cold drink. She was hot and tired and glad to come in, and when she did, the glass slid from Fenrir's hand.

Her sweaty jersey top was stuck to her, showing her breasts and the dip of her waist to perfection, and the short trousers hugged her bum rather well. Her face was dirty and tendrils of curly hair escaped her clip, giving her a gamine look; to top it, her aroma was heady, ambrosia for the werewolf; albeit the entire effect was ever so alluring and sexy, her naked legs were what undid him, he had never seen her legs, not like this.

Not that naked if technically speaking, she wore mid-thigh shorts, but enough for the desperate wolf; those long white legs, the way to nirvana, so shapely and so damn delicious. His frozen mind barely articulated.

He made excuses about the glass being too slippery and knew that tonight was the night.

He could not longer wait. His inner wolf was egging him on, _Fenrir just grab her and kiss her; don't make any excuses, don't let her think. You forget all we have done for her; you painted her house while she went with Malfoy's boy in her sex escapade; you bring her flowers daily; you have given her half of the Greyback's jewels; hmm, granted she has given them back; in a swash buckling, romantic impulse, you cut a lock of hair with a machete_ …

About the machete, Remus had laughed so hard that Fenrir had wanted to kill him. He didn't think it was funny; he had done it so carefully that she might not have noticed. Not true, when Hermione had seen the machete lowering on her direction, she had screamed very loud, whatever, he shrugged.

"Just bring a good bottle of wine, perhaps some chocolates, whatever it. I saw you with ladies more than once, they all wanted seconds and thirds; just do some of the same, again." That was Remus' advice.

And that was what he was doing right at that moment; if only, she had not been so, so, undressed; bollocks, those legs were asking to be licked.

His cock must have been straight up because it was hurting him. He walked towards her as in a daze, with a new glass of ice tea. She was transfixed on the spot seeing his definite arousal, his jeans appeared ready to burst; and, darn, he was large, very, very large. He was more wolfish at that point but not much. His clothes fitted nicely, and he truly looked well.

Well was not the right appellative, and instead, he looked magnificent, feral, and desirable; he was truly a beautiful man. With their eyes glued to each other, he came to her and placed the cool glass on her forehead, moving down to her breasts, and back on her face. With his own hand, he made her drink, and he pulled a piece of ice to cool her face. He no longer was thinking, all he wanted was she, and he was in conquest mode.

When the ice melted, his tongued licked the wet skin. He was not even aware of backing her into a wall, and that his large body was covering hers; and that there was no space between them. He bent down, put the glass on the floor, and went down on his knees.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, put his face unto her torso, and he inhaled her scent. As he inhaled, his breath was heavy, and small moans and whimpers escaped his lips; it was not enough, and he rubbed his face on her belly, to have her natural scent all over his skin. His whining and keening turned louder as the time passed, and she felt his erection low in her legs.

She was aware of needing to take a bath, but couldn't think.

The way she was feeling, was never felt before, besides being a shape-shifter, or a werewolf, he was a powerful dark wizard; hence, the two magical cores were weaving threads around them preparing a cocoon for their first mating. She was more or less trapped, without an escape route.

He pulled apart from her just a smidgen, and with his mind and a short hand gesture, he wished her short trousers off. And at the sight of the witch, wearing small, lacy knickers, his wolf howled.

This, however, didn't halt the action, because Hermione was no longer afraid, she was in the middle of a sort of mate enchantment. Thus, all she wanted was the man who had been pursuing her for over six years. She saw a wizard, and no longer saw him as a beast, not at that moment.

Fenrir the man still had a small hold in the situation, and wanted to be a gentleman and take her into a room, to lay her in a bed, but was afraid to break the spell.

He kissed the patch of bare skin between her very low knickers and the edge of her top; slowly, he raised her sweaty-shirt and kissed and licked his way up, and when he approached her breasts, he raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were barely opened, her lips were not closed, and her breathing was hard, and he believed to never have seen such a beautiful witch, not during his long lifetime.

With a sharp nail, already out, he sliced her bra open; she didn't even notice, her breasts spilled, and he whined.

He put his face to her breasts and breathed in their scent. He was certain that no pair of breasts had ever looked this magnificent. He loved the light color of her nipples, and the freckles adorning them, she was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined.

His tongued licked her breast in sweeping motions while his cock throbbed; he couldn't wait one more second.

He had been raised a gentleman, and albeit most his family had been killed; he had been taught by the survivors of the great massacre. From his actual family, only his father and he had survived. He was a gentleman that much was true, and as one, he had waited for her all those years, but now the waiting was done, and the time for action was here.

He encircled her left breast, and sucked on it with care, her legs trembled, and her arousal dampened her knickers, which made him harder if that were altogether possible.

He couldn't help it, and he was humping her leg. _Oops, Plato told him, we hump legs, that is our way_.

His hand, finally, went to his trousers to free his aroused cock, and once done, he sighed with relief.

He wanted to see her sex, to touch and to lick it, now.

He sat on his calves, his cock straight up, leaking and ready. He hoped she wouldn't look, because...yes, he knew that it would scare her.

She waxed her pubic hair, and he raised an eyebrow, no, he didn't like it. Modern or not, he had imagined licking the hair around her labia, and there was only a little, he would later correct that.

However, he could see the area much better, and wondered if maybe he could be onto something. Maybe he liked the smooth skin. Not able to think more, he pressed the nether lips open, and saw the most beautiful sight of his entire life, he rubbed his nose on it, and he couldn't get enough of her scent, his tongue tasted and lapped, and the wolf was glad to find no other male scents mixed with hers.

Hermione was no longer able to think, she was a mass of raw nerves. The magic of their first mating was already upon them, binding them together, bonding their souls.

"Kiss me?" she asked in between shudders.

Fenrir stood up, his physiognomy was rapidly morphing, his eyes were no longer grey, changing to blue with amber specs, and emitting an eerie glow. His face was longer and wider, not 100% human, the skin tone was neither white nor a human shade; she would have to say white but with grey tones, nearly silver.

Nevertheless, he was magnificent, and when he smiled, the smile revealed a full set of very sharp teeth, along with his fangs; but she wasn't afraid, they were part of him, and she loved them.

She brought her face up to him, and he said," My princess, my mate," For a moment she recoiled in fear, she thought she had heard the word M-A-T-E. However, the mating's magic was working hard on her, and it calmed her. Soon, she was breathing easier, and she reasoned that 'mate' wasn'.t >such a terrible word.

<Harry arrived at that moment, and an old gentleman stopped him at the entrance. Pansy and Harry looked at each other; he looked sort of familiar.

He had a rather stuffy, educated accent, "Miss Hermione was called to work. She has asked to postpone the meeting tonight. I was invited here myself, and I was asked to to stay. She wanted me to tell you not to wait, and send you on your way; and that she hoped you wouldn't be inconvenienced." His imposing manner left not room for a question.

He used an old charm to convince them to leave, and Harry and Pansy, only a little annoyed, left. Lord Greyback turned invisible once again; after all, he was making sure that his idiotic son got his mate tonight, once and for all.

He had one mission in life, and it was to fulfill his strong desire for grandchildren. He wanted curly hair cubs around their lair, and that was all there was to it. It wasn't because he was old, and his son was wrong about being so old, he had pretended to age more than he really had; after all, it paid to be a cunning old wolf.

Fenrir didn't know their aging stopped in their high thirties and by the time they died they would look maybe fifty. He smiled, back to supervising junior.

**Inside-**

Hermione had never been kissed like that before. Fenrir had lots of practice; he had sampled most of the witches around him. Choosing his half-wolf appearance had been for Voldemort's sake because it scared those around him.

The problem was that Miss Granger was different, and he was not able to be suave around her. Remus had told him to quit being so wolfish, what did he mean?

Maybe he was wolfish, and with his next words, he nearly lost her with his inflamed sentiment, "You are so very delicious, my little Red-Riding-Hood," those were the first words out his mouth, and her muscles quit working, she felt faint.

Teddy had told him the story of the girl and the wolf, and she became his Red-Riding-Hood; so he tasted her and totally ignorant of the possible damage of his words, he followed them with some more, "Your mouth taste of honey, and your other lips of happiness, of the finest female delicacies, I just want to consume you."

He freed one hand, willed his claw away, and his finger probed inside her tight channel, and a shudder overcame him. "Yes, please," Hermione heard her voice said, the 'delicious' word all forgotten at that moment.

"Princess, you're so tiny, so narrow, gods, so warm, I must, and I cannot wait." He cried, already wanting to be inside her. He touched her clit, and she came, the clenching on his finger, made him yelp.

His kisses were intoxicating, gods he felt big, quite large. A bit of apprehension washed over her, this was Fenrir, what was she doing? Had she fallen into the deep end?

He stopped her brain with the movement of his caressing finger, giving her more, and with the sound of his urgent breathing. His whimpers no longer sounded creepy, and she recognized his desire, kindling hers.

"Hermione, love, I must have you, please, may I." He asked with his cock already placed at her entrance, between her nether lips; this was wrong, a bed, he wanted a bed.

She responded by resting her head on his shoulder and nipping his neck, her hand reached down and went around the swollen head of his penis. "Not sure, you might hurt me," but as she was saying that, her body was trying to open for him.

Her hand was on his cock, not in his wildest dreams, yes, he had dreamed about it, but not thought it possible. He cried as he pushed unto her hand.

"No more thinking," he heard his father, the damn wolf was out there, whispering but loud enough for him to hear, "Fenrir, you must take her if she talks to her friends they will take her away, forever, I know this, take her now. Explain later, mark her, convert her, now. Do it son, do it. They didn't believe me, and they are coming back to take her away, forever." His father sounded anguished. He truly was, he was remembering his own past follies.

Fenrir's cock found the warm entrance and not thinking, pushed in. Hermione whimpered in pain, he was big, very. She pulled back, trying to get away, "It hurts, stop, stop."

He couldn't have, even if he tried, he was just too far-gone.

"My mate, you only you. You are my only one, my love." He touched her forehead, and changed her brain paths with his strong shifter magic, the pain gave way to pleasure, in seconds as he moved and touched her clit, kissed her mouth, and her breasts.

"My mate, my mate," he thrust into her madly, each thrust brought him pleasure and more pleasure, the harder the better; he had known he couldn't be gentle, too long of a wait.

He bit her gently, love bites, so far, nevertheless, his bites worried her soft skin. His body enjoyed this, way too much; she was so tight, smell so good, gods. How could this mere act feel so damn good?

He was aware of hurting her, and he was afraid for her safety; therefore, he had no choice but to bite her, or he could even kill her with his rough lovemaking. Meanwhile, he infused more pleasure into her mind to alleviate the pain. He couldn't decide, gods, he loved his bitch; with her moving around him and her face distorted with pleasure, there wasn't a doubt, he was in paradise.

 _Mark her, she is mine,_ Plato screamed in pleasure, the hot wetness pulsing around his cock, "Yes, yes." Fenrir, the man, answered in a loud voice.

Hermione was surprised at the feeling, first pain, and the magic of the mating permeated and numbed her senses, exchanging it with pure pleasure. She had never felt something like this, what was it. She couldn't think.

Fenrir was shifter royalty, the last of his family and only a few left from the first ones, he was made by two if the survivors, the best of them all. Whereas he was mostly a wolf, he was also a human. And there was little that he couldn't control, however, the ingrained instinct to save his line was driving him, and his father was counting on it.

"Love, you are so warm, yes, like that," and as her muscles contracted, he realized that he was only partially in. "Love, hold on, I need more, open," he cried; he wanted to be deep inside her, he loved this witch.

" Yes, " she held on to the wolf whose hair now seemed a wild mane, his ears had elongated some, not much, but enough to give him a more lupine appearance. Yet, he was unworldly beautiful, how could she have thought him otherwise?

"Hermione, I am going to come, real soon; and I need to ask you, say yes, do you want to be mine? Forever, be mine, I love you, I love you." He pleaded desperately. The burn ran through his spinal chord and tightened his bollocks, soon, he needed her consent.

The effort to talk hurt his throat, he was no longer entirely human, but he needed to ask her consent for his next action.

Outside, his father was cussing; Maria Louise had not accepted his bite, and this reminded him of his tragedy. His elders had told him, "When a wolf bites without consent, the love might die, and she might never be able to shift and would grow to resent him." But, he later found it, that those were just legends, nobody knew for sure.

Hermione's mind was too addled, the magic of the first mating was heavy upon her, "Yes, forever, I love being with you. Gods it feels so good, and I was so afraid of you, never afraid, never more." Yes, that was the sex talking. In reality, she had no idea of what she was committing to do.

A scream froze in her throat when Fenrir looked at her, at the moment when she felt waves of pleasure, he'd opened his mouth very wide and went for her throat—she screamed, but nothing came out, he was going to kill her.

She was such a sex slag, and as punishment, she was going to die, She could see her epitaph, _here lays Red-Riding-Hood-Granger, like a dead duck. Died by the bite, a nice death she found when 'coming,' because she was such a slag. R_.I.P. Those were her grim thoughts.

His fangs closed but not on her neck, or to break-it-off as she feared, but on the lower part of her neck next to her shoulder; true, she felt the fangs, but felt no pain and instead, more pleasure.

She died, and when death came, waves of pleasure bathed her soul, her entire being. Hermione thought; _I can hear and smell better; in death all is better. Oh well, my friends will find a chewed up bone and some tufts of my curly hair, what a shame. "Here lays the slag whose end came too soon; just because she loved being chewed up…on her quest for pleasure."_

Her body shook riding an orgasmic wave, and her wolf cried his release, she opened one eye, she wasn't dead; and damn, he was gorgeous, another orgasm. She let it ride holding to him and crying his name. "Fenrir, oh yes, you are good, yes."

And she fainted. An hour later, she woke up inside her tub, Fenrir had a kitchen apron tied around his neck and his waist, and was smiling with fairly normal teeth...with fangs. He could be fully human, but he adored his hombre-malo look. In Spain long ago, a pretty female wolf-had, once told him that his fangs gave him the hombre malo appearance, a bad man, precisely.

"The Bat gave me this potion to add to the bath, it should help you with the pain, and, maybe, to heal up the worse tearing. He smiled shyly, "Sorry, you are small and tiny, and I acted like, well, an animal," and he laughed as his own joke.

She joined him a little scared, more than scared, truly afraid of his familiarity. And that kitchen apron that her American friend gave to his witch friends, the one with a large picture of a big broom, looked odd on the naked wolf.

What she didn't know his intent was to hide his, err, big broom. The effect was x-rated and altogether bizarre.

Meanwhile, Harry had remembered, "That was Greyback or at least a relative. Pansy, did you know that at the Auror's office, we have suspected of a werewolf being behind the misfortunes of Hermione's beaus, and did you know that there were dog packs involved in at least two cases?"

"Lucky her, Lord Greyback is sexy, and who would have known that there was such a wizard behind the wolfish persona. I wouldn't mind one myself," was Pansy's response.

Harry was horrified at her answer, and before you would know, he had brought Bill and Ron with him. Remus also came along, suspecting that Fenrir had finally gotten lucky. In all honesty, if Fenrir would gift Tonks, he would be glad, fools, he thought. Being a shifter was a great thing, the best ever, if they only knew.

Meanwhile, Hermione was confused, and although, she wasn't sure what she was doing in her tub, it all was coming back to her. Especially now that Fenrir was on his knees with a washcloth washing her feet and licking them at the same time, tasting them; wait, did he tried to eat her? Now he was at her leg, drying it with his tongue. She pushed her back against the tub, but there was no place to hide.

"Do you feel different," he asked apprehensively, avoiding eye contact at all costs, like the bad canine he was.

She blinked not sure of what he was asking. "I feel relaxed, that was, err, unexpected, but most satisfying. " And that was the understatement of the year; his licks were waking her up, again.

He laughed warmly, "I hope you are no scared of me. I know you might have been a bit frightened. I can be a real bad wolf," he smiled, his fangs gleaming as she recoiled, but a warm gush warmed her thighs _. No, Hermione Granger, you truly are in danger, girl, you are nothing but a sex starved witch,_ she admonished herself _._ Yes, sir, she had not learned her lesson _._

Her hips rose as the bad wolf's tongue got closer to her thigh apex, her head turned towards him…and her eyes made a quick detour to a place right at her shoulder's height, and—she screamed.

"Agh, what is that?" She asked, pointing with her finger. Of course, she could see it, and she could read it as well; let us not forget that she knew the magic lore. Yes, she had a tattoo, a rune that read, 'FG,' inside a wolf paw.

"What is this, exactly?" She sounded quite peeved.

Fenrir looked up. How to explain, bloody tarnation, she was going to kill him... He looked up the ceiling, again; he needed a lie, quickly. She was upset, and he needed assistance, where the hell was his wise father when he needed him?

They heard a big commotion of several people; someone was breaking into the house, into the WC.

Harry, Ron, and Bill, bursted in, all giving Fenrir an evil eye, and behind.Remus followed them, and was guffawing very lou, while looking at a naked Fenrir, who wore a silly apron and held a washcloth.

Hermione's eyes had not strayed from the tattoo, not yet; and no sooner than Remus was able to smell the she-wolf, that his laughter ceased. He'd just become aware of her evil glare going from Greyback back to him.

The two wolves had conspired against her. Oh, no, her beloved Remus had betrayed her.

"Oh, oh!" Fenrir said and taking a page of her book, he bit his lip in a grimace.

"You monster, you fiend, what have you done? I am going to kill you." Harry was furious, same with Ron. Their eyes darted from the aproned, wash-cloth-servant wolf, whose appearance reminded everyone of a weird-fantasy-flick's porno star, to Hermione, who appeared fully loved — they recognized the look— and who now had a giant tattoo, more like a cattle brand. It read 'FB' inside a dog paw, correction a wolf paw mark, on her shoulder and neck juncture.

"Holly Fuck!" Harry yelled.

Xox


	6. A Reluctant Mate

DISCLAIMER:HP belongs to JKR. The story line and all new characters, new character development, new developments are my intellectual property.

**Findings**

The boys had been talking about wooing her again, now that they were more mature and were sure something bad had happened here. They both agreed that Hermione was looking way too alluring. They just could not help it and could not keep their roving eyes away from her.

What happened next was way too strange. Both Remus and Bill fell down on their knees and exposed their throats to Hermione, who started screaming when they called her, "Our Lady Greyback, your wishes are our command."

It was their instinct, and they couldn't help it. She was hysterical until Fenrir's sweet cooing calmed her down. Once she did, he stood in front of her.

Hermione realized what happened by Fenrir's look of guilt, covering her naked body with his. She could chose a different attitude and let him have a piece of her mind, but she was conflicted looking at his tight buns. _Hermione Granger, you are a slag, scream, kill him, do something, and quit staring at that yummy bod_.

"I am killing you," Harry directed his threat to Fenrir, "but I guess is too late, but maybe not."

"Let's go for it, she is ours." Ron egged him and, furtively, both went for their wands.

Oh yes indeed, Ronald and Harry, who had their fair chance and blew it; and now, when they were dating Luna and Pansy, had decided to act like idiots.

It was a good thing that Lord Greyback Sr. was behind them.

"Son put the wand down, or regrettably, I will have to kill you." He pointed the wand at Harry's neck. "She is no longer one of you. And if one must be blunt, neither of you are fit to lick her foot; you never were, because the truth be told, she is one powerful female, and the two of you, are nothing but puny youngsters. You need to leave and keep your mouths quiet."

The chilly menace wasn't lost in either of the younger wizards; whose mouths show their discontent, and whose hair bristled in response.

Fenrir was looking at his father, who seemed to be ten years older than him. What had happened? Had his father deceived him for years, the deceitful old gizzard needed a talk.

The older wolf came by Hermione and sniffed the air. "Good job my son. You have done it Fenrir my lad; I guess waiting six years made you good and potent. I would say she is carrying at least two maybe three pups, new baby Greybacks, and I cannot wait." A wolfish grin lit up the handsome face, showing his long and sharp canines.

His dark steely eyes shone with great pride, and to Hermione's horror, the older Greyback stepped closer, bent, licked her head, and her muzzle, err, her face, and lastly, patted her belly with great reverence, letting a small "woof," of approval. Another scream threatened to leave the confines of her mouth.

She tried, until the words, "Two maybe three pups," kept resonating through her mind for a while to all the reality to stick. And, when she comprehended the implication, with a remarkable lack of self-control, Hermione screamed for a good minute, once again.

She thought the screams were justified; _I needed to scream; it is my right; face it, I am truly horrified. Gods, he is saying I am going to have pups, cubs, as if I were my father's dog. I am going to be a mother of a litter. Worse even, I am P-R-E-G, UGGGHHH. What have I done_?

None of the wizards ran to her, and Fenrir just shielded her body, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He valued his life, and sensed a very angry witch; no way he would face her. When she settled down, he would hold her, sooth her, and give her one of the tiaras. He would call her my queen, maybe that would make her happy. He thought.

Fenrir's father stood in front of Bill, "And Mr. Weasley, we still have an offer for you. I am nearly five hundred years, a good life it has been, so how about it? Our original pack was destroyed by Grindelwald, and we always look for those worthy, to join the real pack."

Bill shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure. Fleur wouldn't be happy, but looking at Remus without scars and not ruled by the full moon, he just didn't know; nevertheless the offer sounded more and more tempting. He knew that Remus had been offered land and the funds to build a home in the Greyback land; he needed to think.

Remus and Bill both noticed the looks passing between the 'idiots,' aka Ron and Harry, and they knew that the boys wouldn't let it go. They needed to talk and find a way to restrain them. They were ready to start a war, and Bill still remembered the fiasco when they had the triad.

Now, with Hermione's brains and her abilities, the family and everyone prospered, and even now, Hermione's ideas kept coming. Besides the Greyback pack was their ticket to a bright future.

They looked at each other once, and each grabbed one of the younger wizards and dragged them out the room.

Fenrir's father felt the tension mounting and also decided it was time to skedaddle. Let the young ones deal with their internal problems, his job was done; and he did not fancy angry bitches; few things scared him in this world, and one was an upset mate, it was better to stay as far away as possible. Besides, he needed to go and advise the pack and the house elves, of the heirs on the way.

In his way out, he clicked his heels. He was the happiest he had been since Fenrir had been born. The pups, little Greyback babes, thinking about them, his heart expanded in joy, life couldn't be better. Now it was the time to drop the old wolf act so he could run, play, and hunt with the young ones, he felt like howling to the moon the entire night. It was getting dark, time to go, and run with his people.

Fenrir hated the sound of the door closing; it meant that he was alone with his little mate. And when he turned to look at her, the first thing he saw were her nipples peeking out the water, and his cock made a full come back. Making the small apron obsolete and Hermione's eyes as big as the full moon.

"Why are you wearing my apron?" She thought that she knew and was ready to bolt. She was guessing that size matter, and,remembered the old adage of better safe than sorry.

"I didn't want to get wet." He answered lamely and not too sincere, and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Take it off, right now, here in front of me, and then get dressed because we must talk."

Fenrir looked like he had lost his most prized possession as he took off the too small article of clothing, and when Hermione saw what he aimed to conceal, a mischievous smile graced her lips. A little scary, wait a lot scary, no wonder he fed her pain potions. She was not sure why her inner vixen had made her smile. Hermione, the human witch was rather terrified.

_I knew this would happen; Plato, it is your fault, you were very rough with her._ He told his inner wolf, exonerating himself of any responsibility for his body parts or his actions.

"I need you to leave my home, "Hermione told Fenrir while he fed her the minestrone soup that Berty his House-elf had prepared for her.

He fed her a spoonful after a piece of bread and a sip of lemonade, and then wiped her mouth daintily. He treated her lovingly and patiently, and, altogether, ignoring her tirade.

"I won't let you come near me again, with that thing," he stuck the spoon on her mouth, and she closed her eyes in ecstasy at the bite full of fresh grated Parmesan and Pecorino cheeses.

"This is heavenly." She moaned in pleasure, "As I was saying, you are abnormal, no wonder I am in such pain. It is like delivering a child, big is overrated whe…" another bite of bread with olive pesto, and a sip of lemonade. "Delicious, I could get used to this."

After she was fed, he brought a brush, to do what he wanted for months, to brush her hair.

"You cannot make me change my mind," he fed her the tiny chocolate éclairs his pastry chef had made for her; while he took all the kinks and snarls out her hair and kissed her scalp and neck, with an occasional nip and lick here and there, making her arch in pleasure. "Maybe, maybe you might, hmm, are there any more pastries?"

oo.

He smiled and reached for her mouth; she sighed while the brush fell out his hand, and his hand went around her breoast.

She moaned as his tongue traced the path to her belly, next to the place he wanted to be in. And as he had wished, he lapped his way until his head was between her thighs. "I like that as well," she whispered and made him try harder.

That was the only incentive he needed; finally he was going to have another chance.

Three days later, the couple emerged from her home. Lord Greyback Sr. served as the liaison between the chefs that work for him and the newly mated couple; keeping the pregnant witch happy and sated, in more ways than one.

Fenrir had told her about his love for her; told her of the days he discovered that she was his mate when he had snatched them, and how he had wished to kill Bellatrix. HeT told her their secrets, and how old was his father.

When she asked, "Fenrir, were you behind the attacks to all my beaus?" He looked the other way and fed her the mini-lemon-cream rolls she liked so much.

"We need to be setting our formal wedding date, I need to speak to your father soon since you will be showing by the end of your second month." He presented her the Greyback wedding ring, last worn by Marie Louise. Hermione gently pushed it back into his hand.

"I still want to think about it, please let me take my time. Pregnancy isn't a valid reason for me to marry; modern witches can raise their children alone. You can participate if such is your wish; after all, they are also your babies. It is too soon to decide, and I want to make my own decisions." She pretended not to see the pain in the big wizard's eyes.

Hermione still didn't understand that she was more than married, that she was his until the end of time. She was in severe denial and quite convincing; but still he tried to convince her to no avail and wanted to keep on trying.

However, denial is a powerful agent, and Fenrir finally left her with his virtual tail between his legs; he wanted her desperately, and her smell was making him desire her more than before.

He needed his father's help; and to tell him that the food and the shagging had not been enough. The hardened and most evil of werewolves dried a tear or two upon leaving her home. Fenrir's heart was full of sorrow because he loved his little bitch, and her rejection just broke his heart.

Meanwhile, the boys had been spying upon the house, waiting for Hermione to emerge. As soon as Fenrir Apparated away, they came around a corner in time to catch her Hermione going out shopping.

**The Boys**

"Fancy meeting you here," Ron called to her, a worse actor you could not have found, had you looked hard.

At the same moment, Luna, Ginny, and Neville were walking to visit Hermione and nearly ready to turn into their street. And when they saw Ron and Harry, Luna ran towards Ron, "Ronny, love, you should see the earrings my father bought for me. They go with the dress you bought me for our engagement party."

Harry gritted his teeth, "Engagement party, what is that all about?" he whispered by Rob's ear.

Rob turned red to match his hair, "Luna, how nice to see you, I will talk to you later, Harry and I have something to do, Hermione was coming with us; we have an important meeting."

He grabbed Hermione's hand to pull her away. This was all planned; he had a potion hidden in the palm of his hand. It would activate when making contact with Hermione's hand, and it would render her will into mush and would blindly obey his commands.

They had purchased it in a 'boutique' in the now fashionable Knockturn Alley, at one of the old seedy places now re-invented into a little posh establishment that sold the same merchandise from before; it was all dark magic wrapped and packaged in pretty vials and fancy papers.

The potion was made to work in a human female; and her friends forgot that Hermione was no longer fully human. Unfortunately, for all of them, the reaction was unexpected.

She felt very warm, and Ron looked exceptionally yummy. Disregarding all those around her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his life away. Luna's eyes were buggier than usual, as she watched in dismay how Ron closed his eyes in loving ecstasy, Luna had not been kissed like that, not once, and she observed as he wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione's waist.

Harry was looking alarmed and tapped Hermione, who took her lips away from Ron for a second, and darn if that was not Harry. The memories of their better times came galloping into her fevered mind as wild horses in a spring day, frolicking and playful.

She turned towards Harry and in front of their amazed friends, she held Harry with one arm and proceeded to kiss him; while Ron, was content with kissing her neck. Both former lovers hands roamed her body as if they were inside closed quarters.

This proved too much for Luna who ran away crying while Ginny turned into her husband's arms to hide her red face and to mutter her sorrow.

Remus and Bill had been waiting for the newly mated couple to give signs of life, and when Bill saw a dejected Fenrir coming into the yard of Happy Kittens, he asked, "What happened?" After Fenrir's short version, Bill promptly Apparated by Hermione's just with enough time to catch the last of the tri-way snogging act.

He found the trio going at it as if they were indoors. Bill smartly suspected Ron-Icky of foul play.

Ginny updated Bill of what she had seen, to the best of her knowledge. Afterwards, he growled and grabbed Ron by his neck pulling him away from Hermione. An oversweet smell reached his sensitive nose, and he concluded that it must be a potion, which was confirmed at observing the glow of Ron's hand.

"Harry, you too, right away, off the witch, what have you two idiots done?" Hermione appeared dazzled and snarled at Bill, and promptly tried to hook Harry by his neck again.

Lord Greyback Sr. made his appearance, and didn't need an explanation to figure out the 'boys' had done a misdeed. "What have these young nincompoops done? Don't they fear an angry wolf, or are they too stupid?"

After a few minutes the older wizards finally figured out what was in the potion, "Idiots, you could have killed her. How much did you use? It is poison for us, and if you harmed the pups, kiss your lives goodbye." Lord Greyback told them.

At that precise moment, Hermione's face turned green, and her legs gave from under her, Lord Greyback barely caught her and after snarling to the boys, "Stay away and pray she is fine if you value your lives." He Apparated away, holding Hermione close to his chest, his face pale and crossed with worry lines.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Aftermath

At that precise moment, Hermione's face turned green, and her legs gave from under her. Lord Greyback barely caught her and after snarling to the boys, "Stay away and pray that she is well if you value your lives," he held Hermione close to his chest and Apparated them away. His face was pale and crossed with worry lines.

Lord Greyback didn't even want to think about Fenrir's reaction, considering that he already wanted to kill her friends, and he wasn't her mate. He hadn't told his son, but his son's petite mate reminded him of Mary Louise, and just like her, she was also sweet and independent. The witch was his adopted daughter, his baby cub...damn the young pups.

Bill called Remus using the cell phone, a present from Hermione, and upon his arrival, they took Harry and Ron away to give them a 'talk.'

"I will tell you this, only once more, stay away from Hermione. If you harmed her with your shenanigans, you better find a place to hide, preferably at the farthest place possible. The Greybacks revere her, and if she has been harmed, you two are dead meat. It is the truth, they will tear you limb by limb. You were warned and knew the young witch was pregnant. What is the problem with the two of you?" Remus growled and snarled, making them cow.

"We meant her no harm. We only wanted her to listen to us. Can't you understand? We were destined since we met at Hogwarts. And now that we have grown up, it is our time." Harry explained.

"No, nobody can understand. She is Greyback's mate, and there is nothing you can do about it. And Ron, you have asked Luna in marriage, and she saw you kissing Hermione. Are you an idiot or what? Luna is a good witch, and you are about to lose her over a witch who is no longer yours." Bill pointed out to Ron.

"As for you, young Harry, shame on you. If only James could see you, he would smack you across the head, and give you a well-deserved whipping. You nearly killed the witch the time when you two lived with her. If my mind doesn't fail me, I wasn't even allowed to talk to her during that time. Are mentally ill or what?" In Remus' darkened and angry face, his eyes shone bright gold.

"Fenrir is not a 'nice' wizard, and even if he is reformed, he is still extremely dangerous. Have you seen his band of thugs at the Happy Kittens? Are you willing to face them and for what? She is pregnant, and furthermore, I detected real interest from Hermione for Fenrir; hell, she might even love him. Let her be, if not with Pansy find someone good for you."

Remus preached to him for a while longer, and he hoped this would be the end of their wild arse comportment, but he doubt it; something inside told him neither idiot would ever give it up; it was hopeless, Harry was like James.

Harry also went on his way and was a tiny, itsy, bitsy, contrite, but not for long, it lasted about ten minutes. Once he'd armed his brain with self-righteousness, he decided to go and spy on the Greybacks. He had dug their coordinates from the secret archives at the MoM.

"Damn," he muttered when he arrived at the luxurious home, a palace was more like it. He had thought Greyback lived in a cave, not in this place. He noticed the lights at the castle were out, but a large home, one that made the Malfoy Manor look like a town-house in the same park, was all lit up. Yes, a park with a maze, a large pond, gardens, the works, he was flabbergasted.

He wanted to get closer and wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak. He had not heard a word that Remus had said, and had decided he needed to 'rescue' her. Surely in the Black library, he would be able to find a spell or two to undo the so call bonding; after only a few encounters, it would probably be easy to undo.

As he approached the building, his eyes saw a wolf with reddish paws and a silverback; the wolf was petite and rather pretty. The wolf stretched a few feet away from him, looked around, and changed into a willowy, naked young woman with dark auburn hair down to her waist.

She sniffed the air and walked until she was in front of him. Gods, she was gorgeous. Her small breasts were luscious...and she asked,"Who is here?" When nobody answered, she stretched her arm, until her hand touched a solid form.

The scent of marzipan and chocolate, her favorites, was making her dizzy, and all came from the person in front of her. Her hand trailed down from the hard chest, down a well-toned abdomen. When she was getting down to a more interesting area, she heard, "Stop it there." The sudden warning made her scream; and she drew her hand away with alacrity.

Harry dropped his cloak, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he offered his hand, "Harry, Harry Potter, I came looking for Hermione Granger, she is a good friend of mine." He talked fast, and his speech was a bit husky. Her naked body was making him sweat.

The naked female in front of him scrunched her face, "Are you the Harry Potter, and if so why were you hiding?" She asked, not thinking of her nakedness, which had Harry's reasoning more than a bit muddled. There was something about her that made him confused, better, had put him inside a haze of lust.

"Ah, yes, the Potter, aha, I am that, Potter that is, and well…" He was stuck.

"Never mind, let me get my clothes, and we can go into the house, the Castle is still closed, but not for long. Maybe my grandfather will know, let's go." She wondered why he acted so strangely and sniffed the air. The second his scent reached her nose, her inner bitch howled. Yes, he wanted her, and he smelled truly delicious. And she wondered, why? Time to ask her grandfather, he had all the answers.

"Is Fenrir your father?" He asked a bit concerned.

"No, not at all, I am Fenrir's half-sister, my father has found his true mate and has left us. I call Lord Greyback my grandfather; I love him like my very own. He invited me here because he wanted me to meet some eligible bachelors."

She told Harry and sounded frustrated. "Thus far, all I have met are a bunch of older wolves, and some questionable wizards that work with my brother. They are scary, that is what they are."

Harry didn't like the idea of the pretty wolf girl meeting other males, specially the thugs that worked at WWW security, "So, are you single?" He asked particularly interested, no longer keen on finding Hermione.

"Yes, I am, and I don't want to find anyone but my true mate. My mother has two children and neither by a mate. I don't want to be like her. Are you single? I read something on Cherry Pop's magazine about you and Miss Granger." Her voice sounded hopeful.

"No, not any more, we did though, nearly two years ago, but it has been over for a long time," Harry answered, with a modified version of the real truth, and grinned at her, and she smiled looking at his gorgeous face. Damn he smelled just yummy. Things were looking up, and she wondered if this would be her lucky day.

Indeed, it was the luckiest of her life, but not necessarily the best. Whereas she had meet the one she had wished for, he would be forever stuck on the witch, he would never be able to have, not as long as Fenrir should live. He was mostly fixated on Hermione, because he refused to lose, and because Ron was a bad advisor and also stubborn to his death bed. In the future, the day Luna would be gone, he would also find a wolf, ensuring the duo would remain in place to cause problems for the rest of their lives.

At Greyback's Lair-

Fenrir sat by his witch, who kept screaming, she was in the midst of nightmares, and her skin was clammy. He had a wet washcloth and wiped her sweaty brow, once in a while. He wanted to kill the idiots and cursed himself for leaving her behind and unprotected. He had cried for the first time since he was a pup.

Herr Doctor Tierhelfer came to see Hermione. His speciality was pregnant bitches, of the magical-wolf kind.

"She is coming out of it. The pups are unharmed, but the potion used on her, ehem." He cleared his throat afraid of the Greybacks, "Ehem, had a spice that is poisonous to wolves. It is a good thing that a negligible amount was used, or it might have really hurt her or the pups. She will need a lot of love and affection around her. One of the side effects is vivid nightmares, and the need for physical affection. I am sure you can fill that last one."

He smiled and looked at Fenrir, who just nodded his head somberly.

"I sure hope you are right on your assessment, I would hate to read the Prophet and find the tragic news of your early demise...if you are wrong." Lord Greyback remarked casually while sharpening his nails with a wicked construction-filing-tool.

Hermione woke up a few hours later, she had been dreaming of Bellatrix coming towards her and pointing the wand at her belly. The nasty witch was screaming, "Cruciatus the little beasts along with mama wolf, die Mudblood, die."

Warm arms enveloped her, and the wizard holding her made her feel safe. She turned around in his arms. It was Fenrir, and to her eyes he looked more than well. She remembered kissing Ron and Harry and wanted to wash her mouth, it made her sick.

She sniffed his neck quietly not wanting to wake him up; next she licked his neck, declaring that he as tasty as ever, and his taste and smell made her feel safe. She snuggled closer to him, wanting more.

Fenrir was feigning sleep, and more than anything, he wanted to hold her, but waited to see what she would do. Hermione continued licking him, downwards and stopped at his chest to lick his nipples; and Plato told Fenrir, _Grab her and put her on all fours, and let's mount the naughty bitch. She needs lots of loving, and perhaps a little punishment_.

_Don't you think of punishing her; it wasn't her fault. And don't call her a bitch; she will have our bollocks if we say that word around her_. Fenrir groweled back.

Hermione continued her descent until she was low enough. His cock twitched and driped for her, and Fenrir could not keep his hips still. Hermione giggled, and her tongue circled around his aroused cock, until he couldn't feign any more." Yes, my little mate, do that, I love it. But not as much as I love you, I love you. Love you." He repeated over and over, amazed at where her lips were.

He caressed her shoulders and her head, he couldn't stop moving, thrusting into her mouth that was warm and perfect, each lick and movement made him whimper with pleasure, and when she squeezed his bollocks he cried, extremely delighted. "I love you, love you." His voice shuddering at every word, and he screamed when he came into her mouth, but still wanted her.

"Come to me my love, come here." He sat up and pulled her up to him and kissed her, over and over again. Fenrir's tongue licked hers while his hands caressed her body with lust and reverence, gods, "Yes, oh gods, I love you, love you, love…" Hearing the sounds coming from him and having such an evil beast under her command, made her a little crazy and a bit drunk with power.

"Don't go, stay with me. Please don't leave me. I want to kill your stupid friends, but if you would stay with me, they would be lots safer, and you would be, as well. I would not be able to live if something happened to you or the pu—babies I mean."

Hermione knew a threat when she heard one, but the multiple love declaration made her melt for the bad wolf.

Although he meant it as a 'loving' threat, he couldn't have known that he would be family to Harry J. Potter, for the rest of his lifetime; let alone that the freckled fool would also be in his pack in his not so near future; hence, the threat card would need to be pulled out quite often. Sadly, the duo would always crave danger, namely: the wrath of the Grayback wolves.

Wedding Bells

Two months had gone by and Castle Greyback officially reopened for the wedding. All was well, and to add to the good news, the vaults had been released back to Fenrir, for 'good behavior.' Hermione still worked, but thinking about the babes, she accepted when Fenrir proposed. Wisely, she decided a quick wedding would be best, considering how fast the babies were growing.

Castle Greyback was dressed up for the occasion, and the guests started to arrive. For a small wedding, the list was long; the Greybacks were known worldwide, and the garden was overflowing with guests. They were true shifter royalty, a fact no known by many. She was amazed at seeing powerful wolves, from worldwide, going down on one knee, offering their throats, and calling both Greyback wolves, "Your Majesty."

Lucius was happy and relieved when his suspicions about Narcissa and Fenrir, were proven wrong. He, also, was amazed at the castle and all the wealth displayed, it was like walking in a Museum; and it made him feel like a pauper. He wondered why Fenrir had always been so broke during his years as a Death Eater; and he needed to get an answer, but it would have to wait. One day, he would want his money back, but who, in his right mind, would ask Greyback about old debts?

Something else was troubling him, the fact that Snape and Cissy seemed mighty cozy and had for a while, especially today when he had observed many improper touches.

He was absorbed in his thoughts when a large hand rested on his shoulder, and a thick, refined voice spoke near his ear, "Lucius, son, not to make you suspicious, it is not my intention; however, the bat and your darling wife seemed a little too friendly. If I were you, I would mind them, closely."

Lord Greyback, astutely, planted a seed of doubt in the arrogant blond's fertile mind. He had his own personal reasons; after the successful Harry Potter's match, maybe luck was on his side, and he liked Lucius; he was arrogant enough for his liking. With their minds together they would rule the magical world.

After that tip, Lucius kept his undivided attention on the couple, and made a point to maintain them within his viewing range. He was busy talking to friends, when he saw them heading toward the opposite side of the building. He found them within minutes and wished that he hadn't, sometimes ignorance is a bliss.

He found Snape and Cissy, behind an old shed. The couple had gone into heavy action within seconds and without missing a beat. Snape only saw him, until he was leaving.

Lucius spoke just loud enough to be heard "Don't mind me, carry on! You know the adage,' the last to know is the spouse.' And Cissy, I will send your things to Severus' home, don't bother coming back. By the way, the Malfoy jewels and furs stay where they belong."

"Lucius, darling, wait, it isn't what it seems, you are, err, confused?" Narcissa saw her large vaults evaporating in front of her eyes; all her precious jewelry ran through her fingers; and felt her body catching a chill without the fey ermine wraps.

"Please, explain are you are doing? Maybe I didn't learn something back in Hogwarts." Lucius ran faster, his heart breaking in two.

As he was walking away, a tall witch built like a wizard's dream, stopped the dejected wizard. Lucius was walking as if in a daze. Earlier, he had felt sorry for Hermione, and a bit envious of Fenrir. At his age, he had caught a prize amongst witches. Now his best friend and his wife, had played him for a fool, and he had never strayed, not once, from the deceitful two timing Black scum.

The tall witch, with dark auburn hair, he had earlier seen talking to Potter and to a younger version of herself, perhaps an older sister, was coming towards him. Apparently, Harry Potter was engaged to Fenrir's sister, so who was this witch?

"Hello Mr. Malfoy, Fenrir pointed you out to me. I am Drusilla Redpaws."

When Drusilla Redpaws was a young wolf, a mere sixteen years old, she had fallen for Fenrir Sr. During a fool's full moon, that came once in a while, she had tricked him into impregnating her with Fenrir. Although he rejected her right after, he allowed her to stay until the pup was born. He waited for Fenrir to be weaned and took the pup from her. Fenrir was one year old when his dad took over his care.

Drusilla didn't learn, and twenty-two years earlier, she chose a wolf that was neither her mate nor a good partner. The couple had a child, the young she-wolf who had found a mate in Harry Potter. The later made Drusilla more than a little jealous, and quite sad about her bad choices.

"I saw you earlier with Mr. Potter and was the witch your younger sister?" He questioned her; bloody hell, she was gorgeous and gifted with curves that wouldn't quit, and, hopefully, she was single. Plus, she smelled like a champagne truffle, divine.

"No, that was my daughter, Harry has asked me for Amethyst's hand in marriage. She is one lucky wolf to have found her mate at such early age, and a fine one at that." She said dreamily and moved closer to him.

The wizard looked good enough to shag. And once again, she sniffed the air around him, and yes, the sinful scent of champagne truffles was coming from the blond bimbo, discretely, she sniffed a little closer, and her heart did a little dance.

Lucius noticed and smiled, "I must assume that you are a werewolf?" Lucius asked, he wanted to know if he were right. He liked Fenrir a friend, but to like a werewolf as a romantic interest? What if she bit him? Hmm, that could be rather kinky. He had heard a rumor that Greyback wasn't a real werewolf per say, but a long-lived shifter; although, those were only legends, but who knew. Well, well, maybe it was a good day after all.

"I would prefer if you thought of me as a plain wolf. And if you wish, you could even call me a bitch, I wouldn't be offended." She smiled, and her sincerity made him want her; and slowly but surely, Cissy started fading out of his mind, just within minutes of meeting Drusilla. Something about the witch, or was it the bitch, had already made him hard. Oh well, what do they say, a door closes and another one opens?

The bride and the groom danced, and the Weezy guard watched them with absolute adoration. Their boss had snagged the biggest prize of all, and they were all very proud of him. The rag-tag group admired the bride whose dress rivaled a real queen's. The Weezy queen, the world's number one witch, had married their boss, and they couldn't get over the fact that they had been invited to their Royal wedding, of sorts.

The young reprobates puffed their chests and enjoyed all the free vittles and liquor. They were dressed on their questionable finery, that them look as members of a deadly cartel. They surrounded the dance floor, as ordered by Lord Greyback, and dreamed of one day dancing in their own weddings with a queen of their own, one just as lovely as Lady Greyback. Young witches admired them from afar and, foolishly, dreamed of dangerous lovers and a bit of adventure.

Hermione's tiara was a replica of one that had belonged to Maria Antoinette, and Lord Greyback had commissioned it for his Marie Louise, way back then. The crowned bride's belly showed just a little, and Fenrir glowed with pride. His hands would rest there often, and his face was placid for a change.

A radiant Luna danced with Ron; they planned to marry, later that year; however, every time Ron looked about and saw Hermione, he seemed upset, his eyebrows knitted and his lip pouted, and invariably, Remus or Bill would catch his eye to remind him to walk the straight and the narrow.

Harry held his wolf babe close to him, nevertheless, whenever his eyes caught a glimpse of Hermione, his heart would hurt a little and a lot, but a stern look from Lord Greyback would set him straight. Oh, well, he was more than happy with his sexy Amethyst, maybe? He hoped.

When no one was looking, Ron and Harry would catch each other's eyes, and mischief, barely there, would hide behind an invisible mental cloak, in order to avoid getting caught. Had they learned their lesson? Most certainly not, sooner or later they were bound to cause another dire situation; and, unfortunately, they would have hundreds of years to perfect their trouble making skills.

As for the bride, she was still rather unhappy, regardless of the love shared with her bad wolf, she was afraid for her future. It didn't help that he wouldn't allow any males around her; if the boys had been possessive, Fenrir was twice as bad, and his father, his second, was always by her side. However, she liked many things about him, namely how he spoiled her, or, rather, how both wolves dotted on her and had crowned her as their official queen.

She was a little ashamed of her tiara, it was rather pretentious, but he loved when she wore tiaras and jeweled headbands with matching earrings and sometimes a necklace, and nothing else on. She giggled remembering earlier naughty episodes.

In her room when they played princess and the knight with the giant lance, giggle, giggle... they also loved to run in wolf form, and to jump and swim, in the magically warmed pond, and, afterwards, they would make love, outdoors. Often, the older Greyback would join them for a dip in the pond, and when done, the naughty wolves would crown the queen wolf. Afterwards, the couple, one crowned curly wolf, would run, deep into the woods surrounding the castle, to have their royal fun.

Maybe things would get better when others started moving in the park; Remus and Dora were renovating the dowager house to move in, and Teddy was looking for being close neighbors. He adored Fenrir, his big hero, poor Dora she would be in the minus when she noticed Teddy's new 'gifts.' Hopefully, they would convince her to accept the gift, Remus was hopeful.

Bill had attended the engagement ball and no longer had scars. Fleur appeared miserable, and Hermione couldn't figure out how their lives would work. A wolf married to a magical creature that turned into a winged, feathered, big chicken, was a bad combination, if ever there was one. Bill was also moving into another of the large homes in the property, once the renovation was done.

"Love, I have an idea, let's escape the party, a picnic waits for us by the old pond, cheese puffs, mini-eclairs, chocolate covered strawberries, salmon pate, the works. What do you say, I must have you." He nipped her neck, "I want to lick your body from head to toe, and I mean everywhere, and when I say everywhere, I mean every nook and cranny. I want to get drunk on your taste. What do you say Lady Greyback, queen of my heart, mate of my life?"

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. For better or for worse, she was Fenrir's mate; therefore, better to enjoy the ride, a ride on Fenrir sounded perfect, and her eyes glazed. "Yes, when, now?"

The end? Maybe. A little more and it really the end.


	8. And Babies Make Five.

 

**Birthing Pups**

The weeks passed by and Hermione's belly grew to prodigious dimensions. Her petite frame compared to Fenrir's massive size, was part of the problem. She carried his child, correction, children, as in multiple; three to be exact; the progeny of the large male wolf. The large babes had an impact on the curly haired, young wolf, and in her wolf form, her belly nearly touched the ground; therefore, moving around was rather awkward.

Her diminished mobility was not a problem for either Fenrir or his father, fiit kept her closer to home; and, even better, she was dependent on them; which wasn't all bad, she only had to ask, and they would carry her in their arms.

"Darling, you need to stay home, it is getting closer to your time, and, besides, you aren't comfortable sitting down or walking." Fenrir told his mate, while he kneeled on their bed.

They were both naked, and he was admiring her pregnant form, trying to figure out how to be inside her without adding to her discomfort. Whereas was unable to stay away, Plato was the worst, the wolf wanted his mate all day long, not sexually- or not as often- but wanted to lay by her side the entire day, preferably naked, and if she were willing, in lupine form.

She carries our pups and needs lots of rest and our protection. There are too many unruly males around her, either of them ready to cash during one moment of non-vigilance; those young ones have no discipline.

The young ones that Plato had mentioned were none other than the usual suspects, Ron and Harry. Not that they had tried any untoward attentions, but it was the way they insinuated their presence into her life; namely, the too long glances, too tight greeting hugs, the dangerously close to the mouth social kissing, all during socially sanctioned situations as, hellos, goodbyes, congratulatory instances, and so on; but they never, ever missed a chance.

While both Greyback were ultra protective of their crowned queen wolf, yes, she wore circlets during all special events, theirs and Plato's concerns were no unfounded. Hermione's best friends were in effect incorrigible, and they would probably be for the rest of their lives.

Neither Harry nor Ron was intrinsically bad, and their behavior was the result of the experiences that had formed them. They'd fought a war and faced together live and death situations during their formative years, and it convinced them that Hermione was theirs. Short of an AHA moment, when they would experience a profound life change, they would always be the fleas or ticks, trying to borrow into the wolves' coats. Whether it was fate or destiny, they were there for the long run.

"Darling, did I see Harry holding your waist after the board meeting at Happy Kittens' board meeting?" Fenrir casually asked while caressing her belly, lower and—his breath hitched at seeing the darker nether lips, due to her pregnancy.

"I did see him playing with your hair, and his hand nearly on your ti—, I mean your breast." He had seen it, "Ah, and you slapped his hand." He finished.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, he was right. She remembered. "Hermione you really have gotten big, everywhere, who would think you would have such nice ones, are they real?" Harry had asked as his hand moved in her direction. He was a silly fool, since Fenrir had his eye on them, and moreover, she only wanted Fenrir's hands on her body.

At seeing her frown, Fenrir changed his tune, "You are so enticing, gods, I want you, lift you leg a little, just like that," and he moved behind Hermione, who flicked his fingers with annoyance and emitted a low growl. As usual Fenrir cowered a little, the Hombre-Malo was afraid of his mate. Afraid, she would stop loving him.

He only feared Hermione's anger and was afraid that one day she would leave him; henceforth, any little sign of rejection would make him cower. But nothing as bad as, "Bad wolf, you are being a bad, bad, wolf." Hermione told him in a peeved voice.

Fenrir's erection deflated, and he had a virtual tail between his legs. "I am not bad, I just can smell his arous, err, how he… never mind." Her hard look had made him back up, but not for long.

"You may not come close to me, I detest your jealousy, and yes, he held my waist but only to help me sit down. And in case you haven't noticed I am as big as a house."

"Yes, and that is why should stay at home, just for a while, then you work some hours and—"

"GRRRR," was the answer, Hermione showed him her long fangs.

Fenrir knew better, "Love, remember the pups, you shouldn't be upset, it is bad for the babies, " he stopped at hearing someone knocking at their door.

"Son, is our precious queen okay? Are you upsetting her?" It was his father.

Hermione started crying, "Father, he was being mean. But please don't come in, this is not a good time."

Fenrir rolled his eyes, he knew what was coming, his father would give him a 'talk,' he hated those.

"Darling, I didn't mean to upset you, be calm, it is okay. " He bent to kiss her hip and lick her belly, "You are beautiful, so pretty with my babies. The girl is for Teddy, Remus wants a contract."

Hermione giggled, "Teddy is a little young, you silly wolf. Can you rub my feet, I want these babies to be born; I love them, but I am so tired of this gigantic belly." She whined.

"And I want to help you, you read the book. It is been done for centuries, sex is a good way to induce birth." He tried again, looking hopeful. His hand already parting her legs, he could never have enough.

"Is that so? If so, kiss me," she said.

A few minutes later, "Darling, yes lift a little bit, Oh, gods, " he pressed on, was nearly in, he was always hungry for her, there he was in, he groaned, and—a gush of sticky fluid rushed out her channel. He pulled out immediately.

For several seconds, he just looked at her trying to understand the significance of this. He concentrated, she still had five weeks to go, and a bolt of lighting hit his brain.

Hermione asked puzzled, "Did you come? So fast, wow, that felt really wet."

No answer forthcoming from Fenrir, strange, "Fenrir. Fenrir?"

He had, actually, plopped back on the bed. "Fenrir, are you okay? Darling?"

Hermione was barely able to half sit, and noticed that Fenrir was out cold. She felt totally wet, what was this? She touched it. Had she lost bladder control? Her mother told her that could happen. Her mother, her parents had gone to a conference because she wasn't due for weeks.

"FATHER," she screamed, a fierce, painful contraction had just shaken her body.

Fenrir's father came into the room, kicked Fenrir who was out, picked up Hermione, and wrapped her naked body in in the bed's quilt. "Let's take you to the birthing room already prepared, and Fenrir can call the Healer. You will be fine, my precious wolf, just do your breathing as you learned. Be calm, my sweet daughter."

Hermione noticed that his arms were shaking, "Will you be able to carry me?" She wondered, considering that the handsome, older wolf was the color of chalk and appeared ready to throw up.

Fenrir was coming back, "Son, get dressed, now, she needs you, I think it is too soon. Go and get the Healer, I hope everything is fine." His father's formal voice sounded hurried and anguished.

Fenrir couldn't put a leg in his trousers, and his father screamed, "Use your magic, dammit."

As Lord Greyback walked to the birthing room, he picked up a trail of onlookers, namely Harry Potter who was visiting, and severl of the house-elves, but Amethyst had gone shopping with her mother.

Harry was freaking out, "Hermione, are you in pain, is everything okay? This is all Fenrir's fault, all his fault." He gave both Greyback wolves, a glowing evil eye.

"Harry, Harry, I am afraid, you carry me, hold me, carry me." Hermione stretched her arms towards Harry, and, although Lord Greyback snarled, it didn't faze Harry; who, promptly, doubled his efforts to wrestle her away from her father-in-law, and during the struggle they dropped her, but one of the house-elves, was able to levitate her in a nick of time.

Fenrir who walked right behind, growled at Harry, but Hermione was adamant, "I want Harry to carry me, he is my family. I don't know you well enough. I want my mother," and she sobbed.

"Darling, your mother is away in China, it will take hours, even if we use Portkey. You will be fine." Fenrir told Hermione and growled at Harry, who refused to be afraid.

Harry immersed himself in the role of the brother, or whatever he supposed to be, and ran with the witch in his arms, but with her extra-weight his arms were hurting, and he couldn't make the load lighter not being able to access his wand.

"Blood, I smell blood," Fenrir said.

Sure enough, Hermione was bleeding, and Harry turned green. "I will take her," Fenrir demanded. By this time, panic had taken hold of everyone, and their faces were wet with tears.

"I think she should go to St Mungo's." Harry observed, "Bleeding cannot be a good thing."

"I am dying, I know I am going to die. It is all your fault Fenrir, your fault." Hermione punched him, but was too weak and fainted.

Harry remembered all the times Hermione had been there for him, and his role of savior took over, "Patronous, go to get Healer, and then go by St Mungo's and ask for assistance." His white stag ran and disappeared.

"Quickly to the birthing room." Fenrir's father was getting a hold of himself, and Fenrir obeyed as an & .

An old house-elf, Pomette, who belonged to Marie Louise's home, spoke, "I delivers Madame Marie Louise's bebes, and I can help." She was tiny and wizened, but at this point and time the three males deferred the task to her.

It wasn't long before Pomette had mobilized the entire house staff, and had Harry and Fenrir's father bringing her all she deemed necessary.

"My Lord, she has to sleep." Pomette looked at Lord Greyback, and he nodded.

Pomette pointed her finger to Hermione's head, her eyes closed, and her face relaxed.

"The pups be to big for the Dame, and we needs to cut them out." She looked at Fenrir, who shook her head.

"No, nobody is going to cut her up." He said firmly.

"Fenrir, that is often done with Muggles, it saves the babes and the mother." Harry explained.

Fenrir growled and picked up the small house-elf with one finger.

"You cut her, and you die." Fenrir voiced his predictable threat.

His father came right behind him and held his arms tight from behind. "Son you calm down, or you will be sent out the room. Harry, you help, and I hold Fenrir."

The house-elf, created a bubble surrounding the two of the elves, Harry, the patient and herself. Then one of the other female elves opened her hands a couple of times and a bright light flashed thrice. Harry figured it out as some sort of disinfection since his skin glowed and his nails were pristine clean. They all had some transparent bubble over their heads, interesting.

Hermione's blood flow seemed to be increasing, "Master Harry, you holds the Dame's hand and don't look." Pomette ordered him.

Harry heard a, "Oh, Merlin," and two bodies hit the floor.

Five minutes later, he heard knocking at the door, the Healer. But the house-elves wouldn't let anyone go past the doorframe.

Ten minutes later, he heard a little mewling sound and a small body was deposited in his arm, a tiny baby, Harry opened his eyes to look, at this point they were all looking, he carefully placed the baby in Hermione's chest, and Pomette levitated a second baby out the cut in Hermione's belly. Harry was no longer afraid, and his heart was about to burst with the event's generated happiness.

At the sight, Fenrir went down again, and Lord Greyback said. "I want the pups, " he demanded.

"Waits, you must waits." Pomette was resolute.

And the last, a third babe, all in human form yet their ears a little pointed. To Harry's delight, the trio went from puppies to babies, as if their form wouldn't hold.

A few more minutes, and the bubble dissolved. The healer rushed in, "This is most irregular, just not right, she could have died."

"Be quiet," Harry told him with cold authority, "Pomette did a perfect job."

"I say," the healer looked and not even a scar where Pomette had extracted the babies.

The healer ordered a blood-replenishing potion, than pulled his wand and performed additional healing charms.

Pomette touched Hermione's forehead whose eyes opened to her bloodied, mucus-covered babies, and she squealed with delight.

Fenrir was waking up, he had been levitated to a bed next to the birthing table, and Hermione lay next to him. There between them, there were three bundles, wrapped in white blankets.

"Two girls and one boy, the reading was wrong." Fenrir's heart felt so large, that it didn't quite fit in his chest cavity.

Harry and his father sat at the foot of the bed. Harry was massaging Hermione's foot, and Fenrir's eyebrow went up. Harry noticed the gesture, and he shrugged one shoulder.

"Harry, thanks, you were my hero." Hermione cooed.

"Yes, Harry, my hero, let's go to my room," Amethyst called, "I want to show you the shoes I bought for the wedding dress, and to see if you like the nightgown for our wedding night."

Harry promptly dropped Hermione's foot and followed his mate, and Fenrir's father chuckled. "Bitches, they know best."

"Father, don't talk like that around the babies, or you won't be allowed to be around them." Hermione's bossy voice ordered.

"Darling a slip of the tongue, pass me Marie Louise, please?" He stood up and accepted the girl, the first-born. She had a full head of hair with the strip of silver grain already visible. He held her gently, "How is our most precious princess?" his voice was soft and tender.

He turned around and bent to kiss Hermione's brow, "Thanks for the gift," his eyes were wet with tears, "This is the second Greyback female in our history, and the first was my child, the one who died in France. Now we have two at once, thanks our Queen."

Fenrir still had not said one word, "Princess, thanks, I am so happy," he finally said when picked up the little boy in his arms while Hermione held the girl, the tiniest of all. "I love you very much."

She smiled just staring at her little girl and lowered her gown to feed the baby. Fenrir screamed, "Father close the door, quick," he had heard the voice of visitors; it sounded like the Weasley clan, and he distinguished Ron's voice.

"We need to talk about feeding," and before he could say more, he raised his eyes when he heard a low growl.

"I cannot believe my ears, what are you saying? There is nothing to talk about breastfeeding my babes; I was going to cover up a bit, so what are your new rules? This is insufferable, I will leave if you don't change."

Fenrir's father growled even louder, "Fenrir, she is right, but you are also right, a queen is discrete; so why thrill the underserving masses? Don't you agree my sweet?" He looked at the crowned queen, and his rightful daughter, with love and affection. Bloody hell if he would risk making her mad, he would rather get rid of Fenrir.

Seeing his loving smile, Hermione pulled the shawl folded to her left, and Fenrir hurried to wrap it around her shoulders before the Weasley invasion entered the room.

Teddy joined the group just a little later and went straight for the youngest of the girls. He kissed her forehead, "You are my friend," and jumped out the bed and walked towards Lord Greyback, sniffing the air and scratching his head. "Maybe, hmm, she is my friend," pointing at the first born, looking all puzzled.

Hermione giggled, and Fenrir frowned, "They are nobody's friends, they are my girls;" his father agreed, exclaiming "Amen," and Hermione rolled her eyes and closed them sighing loudly, "Poor babies."

This is truly the End. Fin.


End file.
